


The Meaning of a Lily

by inmyfashion



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-17 01:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11265564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inmyfashion/pseuds/inmyfashion
Summary: Mike Lawson never really understood the purpose of giving flowers.Repost--this is the same story that was previously under darlinginmyway.





	1. Of Lilies and Roses

**Author's Note:**

> Repost--this is the same story that was previously under darlinginmyway.

Mike knows a lot about giving a woman flowers. He made himself an expert on ‘I’m sorry I forgot our anniversary flowers’ (Rachel), ‘I’m sorry I forgot your birthday flowers (Rachel, and his mother), ‘I’m just sorry in general' (see previous lists), and 'thanks for last night flowers' (countless, nameless women he slept with post his separation from Rachel.)

He’s never really understood their purpose beyond needing to make up for something or save face. He’s never witnessed a woman he sent flowers to receive them—choosing to have them delivered and not bear the brunt of her wrath. Never seen their faces light up in happiness or fall in disappointment.

(He did see a number of arrangements in the trash towards the end of his marriage.)

Flowers die. They’re impractical outside of needing to make amends because, for Mike, they're a gesture that says ‘I care enough about you to throw away this money on something that’s certain not to last.’

So, he’s thrown off and confused by having to see Ginny’s face—a face of surprise and pure glee—when she receives an enormous arrangement of flowers one day in the clubhouse.

The first arrangement gets delivered by Eliot.

Blip and Mike see him make his way towards the clubhouse entrance and intercept him. 

"Are you planning on decorating our space, Eliot?" Mike laughs and plucks the card from the top of the arrangement. "You didn't even try for Padres colors."

"They're for Ginny," Eliot states, not attempting to get the card back. 

Blip takes the vase of flowers out Eliot's hands. He turns the arrangement this way and that, and hums in approval. "These are some pretty expensive flowers."

"Whoever sent them must really have something to apologize for," Mike mutters as he rips open the card. 

"Why would you think that?" Blip asks.

Mike shrugs. "It's the only reason to send flowers. To apologize."

"I'm not surprised you're divorced, man," quips Blip. 

Mike ignores Blip and reads over the card. As his eyes scan the lines, his countenance grows grimmer. His fingers leave indentations on the heavy ivory cardstock as he reads the too pretty script three times over. 

_Thanks for saying yes when you could've said no. I hope these make you smile. x S_

Blip snatches the card from Mike's hand and gives a low whistle. "This is so smooth."

Mike's frown grows. Thanks for saying yes? Who is S? Who was sending his rookie flowers? 

"We'll make sure she gets them, Eliot," Blip says as he tucks the card back into the flowers. 

Mike trails behind Blip, his mind clouded with S, gorgeous stargazer lilies, and Ginny saying yes to something. 

To what?

"Aww, Sanders, you shouldn't have," Stubbs mimics in a high voice. "You know how I adore lilies."

Blip ignores him and the other men as they make whooping noises and hands the ridiculous case over to Ginny. "From someone named S."

Ginny rolls her eyes. "You opened the card?"

"Of course." Blip shrugs unapologetically. "So who is 'S?'" Blip asks, his voice ringing with curiosity and suppressed laughter. 

"None of your business," Ginny mumbles as she pulls the card from the envelope. 

Mike's breath stalls in his chest as he takes in the way her cheeks alight with color and a smile so broad and real takes over her face. He hasn't seen that smile in weeks—maybe months. Certainly hasn't seen it directed towards him at any rate. 

"Ginny's got a secret looooooover," Stubbs sings poorly and off key to a round of raucous laughter. 

She dips her head and gets up from her spot, holding the bouquet tightly to her chest. She ignores the ribbing and goes back to her little space leaving a confused and agitated Mike behind without a glance. 

\-----

The next arrangement to arrive are delicate, unbloomed peonies. 

They arrive the same day the ESPN Body issue hits newsstands. 

The Body issue Ginny takes part in. 

Amelia is cautious about her inclusion, sighting the leaked photos, but nothing about the ESPN spread is distasteful, and all the athletes that participate in the shoot are at the top of their game, and have bodies to be admired. 

Ginny's photo is exemplary. They capture her on the wind up of a pitch. Her left leg is cocked at a strategic angle, her mitted hand across her chest, hair blowing in the wind, eyes narrowed in determination.

Mike grumbles when he walks into the clubhouse to see half the team staring at the magazine spread. 

Mike tosses the magazine waiting in his chair into his locker cubby. "I could've been in the body issue, too," he says gruffly.

Blip laughs, and the sound is closer than Mike expects it to be. "If they had an issue about dinosaurs roaming the Earth, sure."

Mike flicks him off, and starts to respond just as Stubbs lets out a low whistle. Mike turns as the other players start to clap and make other inappropriate sounds as Ginny walks. She's got her head held high, and a small smile on her face. Seeing her that way makes Mike happy. She should always wear that smile. 

"Looking good, Baker," Stubbs croons, holding the magazine open at her photo with one hand. "Wonder why they didn't ask any of us to participate? I mean, look at this face," he gestures to his chin with a flexed arm. 

Ginny rolls her eyes but doesn't say anything, walking back to her quartered off area of the clubhouse. 

Mason, one their trainers, walks in with the bouquet a few moments later. "Y'all seen Ginny?"

"Not again," Mike grumbles. "She's back there, but hold up," Mike makes his way over to the man and plucks the card out of the flowers again. 

"Come on, man," he hears Blip say from behind him. 

_See? I told you it would turn out spectacular. You look strong, and capable, and bad ass. And hey, did you see how close our photos are to one another? -S_

Mike shoves the card back at Mason and points to Ginny's hideaway before going back to his cubby and ripping through the magazine. 

He stops briefly to admire what everyone else has seen. She does look fierce, and sexy, and like a total badass. Whoever 'S' is got that completely right. 

Mike flips though the rest of the photos, searching for anyone whose name starts with an 'S.'

He finds three contenders. 

One is Samuel Henny, an Olympic rower with the delts and traps of a god. (Mike has no compunction about acknowledging such a thing in another man.)

The second is Scott Carne, wide receiver for the Arizona Cardinals. He's one of the top ranked receivers in the league with a crazy amount of yardage under his belt. He also dresses like a dapper don, so he's definitely a contender. 

The last is the wildcard, Sergio Asensio, striker for the LA Galaxy, and Mike finds he doesn't know a thing about him. Soccer is a stupid sport, he believes. Any game that ends in a nil-nil score can't possibly be worth caring about. But he's young, and handsome, Mike supposes. 

He shoves the magazine aside and sidles up to Blip. 

"So who is 'S?' And don't tell me you don't know who it is."

Blip's face is almost apologetic, except for the little smirk forming in the corner of his lips. "I do know. I also know that if you want to know, you need to ask Ginny yourself." 

"We both know the possibility of her telling me is slim."

"Whose fault is that, Mike?"

\------

The day Mike gets permanently moved to first base, the third arrangement arrives. 

He snatches the delicate, potted orchid out of Shrek's hands and goes to deliver them to Ginny himself. 

He knocks on her door and barely waits for her affirmative answer before he barges in. 

"Here," he holds out the potted plant to her. His lips turn down at the edges, and his clenched jaw makes his beard twitch. "Another plant from S, I'm sure."

"Didn't read the card?" she asks with no warmth in her tone. He deserves her censure, but he'll be damned if he admits that at the moment. 

"I really hope you're more careful this time around." The words are out of his mouth before he can reel them back in. 

"No need to worry, Lawson," Ginny says through gritted teeth, "I've only told the people I know I can trust."

Mike couldn't feel worse if she'd stabbed him right through the heart. 

"I'm sorry," he mutters, but she doesn't acknowledge him. 

He lets her leave; he watches as she sets the orchid down delicately, then moves around him out of the door.

They play a great game that day. Ginny and Duarte are magic, and the Padres win 6-1. 

And Mike watches. All he ever feels like he does anymore is watch. Duarte is all smiles and charm, and dimples, and young, _so_ young.

Mike gets none of Ginny's charming smile in his direction, just the necessary interaction that's due as her captain. 

And it's not enough. 

\--

Mike shows up outside of Ginny's new place (after a lot of begging and a bit of bribery to Evelyn) with a vase of peach and pink hothouse roses. 

And he feels like a fool. 

A car he doesn't recognize is parked in her driveway. He should turn around, go back home, leave the flowers, and just go, but he can't. 

He wants to see her face when she gets them. Maybe he's a masochist, but he needs to see for himself. 

He walks up the steps of the modest house with a pretty little wrap around porch, complete with hanging swings and a wooden wind chime that's rustles lightly at the moment. 

Mike's at her front door and ringing the bell before he can question the folly of his decision. 

A look of confusion covers her face when she opens the door, her lips turn down at the corner.  She eyes him warily and shuts the door behind her and steps further onto the porch. 

"What is it, Lawson?" 

Mike takes a deep breath and holds out the bouquet. "Here rookie."

Ginny takes the vase from his hands and lifts a delicate eyebrow in question, but he's not sure what else to say. This wasn't the best of ideas. 

"Thank you," she says softly. "What are these for?"

Mike scratches the back of his neck and rocks on his heels. "I wanted to say sorry, for, ya know, everything. Really. I'm sorry."

Ginny nods and hugs the case of roses closer to her body. She brushes a couple of fingers over the edge of the pretty flowers, and for just a moment, a smile tugs at her lips. 

And it's enough for Mike. For now. 

"It looks like you have company," Mike says as he motions back towards the car in the driveway. "I won't take up any more of your time, I just wanted to—" He stops and points at the flowers again. 

He turns to go, but Ginny's voice makes his steps falter for a moment. "Thanks a lot, old man."

Mike turns and gives her a gentle smile over his shoulder before heading back down the stairs to his car. 

_END PART ONE_


	2. Of Dahlias and Daisies

An epic, misogynistic rant of Trevor's gets caught on film, and Ginny's names gets brought up in his sphere of drama once more.

A delivery of dahlias arrive the following day, variegated deep purple and white, and Mike's a little miffed by how perfect they are in both appearance and choice.

He lets Blip pass with the flowers, not inclined to look at whatever message 'S' has written this time.

Ginny's finally started to acknowledge him again, albeit it slowly and haltingly. He sees her measuring words, being careful with how she chooses to interact with him and what she says. It's a pain he doesn't really know how to process, but it's an improvement over being completely shut out by her. Every inkling of a smile is hard won, but it's so much better than her stony face and bitter silences of the past three months.

Mike takes out his phone and looks up dahlias. He frowns and grits his teeth at the foresight of S. Blip comes back from Ginny's room, his shoulders slumped, hands empty.

"How is she?" Mike asks before Blip can take a seat. "I could wring Davis' neck," Mike mutters.

Blip makes a sound as he sits. "Get in line. I think Evelyn is collecting money to put a hit out on him. She won't tell me, but I'm fairly certain she's up to something."

"She's giving you plausible deniability," Mike replies as he turns in the direction of Ginny's room.

"Don't man."

"I just want to know she's okay," Mike says as he throws a dark look at Blip. "Blip, I—"

"Listen," Blip starts, "I haven't missed the way things have been between you two. A blind man couldn't miss it, but I'm telling you to leave her be for now, man. Seriously."

Mike listens, but just barely. He seethes throughout their easy win against the limping Braves, seeing little action at first base. It gives him the opportunity to watch her, to study the lines of her body. She pitches a fine game, but she's tense, her shoulders are taut, and every part of her being radiates tension.

He desperately wants to help her. But he's not her catcher anymore, he's barely even her friend and the knowledge chafes at him constantly.

It's coincidental that he sees them. At least he pleads coincidence when he leaves a few moments after her, hoping to get her alone for just a moment, just enough to...

But when he rounds the corner in the breezeway outside the clubhouse it's to see Ginny standing with her back to the wall, some man he vaguely recognizes standing a foot in front of her. It's not intimate, but familiar. The man's got a piece of Ginny's curly hair between his fingers and he tugs it gently. She laughs at him and bats his hand away.

The ache in Mike's chest expands when the man places a hand on Ginny's hip and steps in closer and Mike really should go. Turn around and leave them to their moment.

He does turn once he sees that this man has no intention of going any further than that at the moment, and he's begrudgingly grateful for that.

Mike walks back to the clubhouse slowly. He makes a show of going through his cubby as if he forgot something, but puts his hand on the ESPN Body Issue he keeps there fairly quickly. He flips to the page with Sergio Asensio and holds it up to Blip who's watching him like a hawk.

"So this is 'S,' huh?"

Blip sighs and nods. "Yeah, how'd you—"

"He's here. I just—" he stops and thinks through how to say he followed Ginny out of the clubhouse. "I—he's in the hall with Ginny, so I figured."

"Yeah," Blip replies as he stands, zipping up his duffle. "He's coming over for dinner at the house tonight."

Mike's stomach clenches and he sets the magazine back in its place amongst his things. "Well, have a good—"

"You want to come to dinner?"

\------

Mike should've said no. Truly. He has no place there, but he needs to see.

He doesn't want to, but he needs to. God, when'd he get in so deep?

He picks up the bottle of wine he made a pit stop for and makes his way up the Sanders' drive to their front door.

He pauses for a brief moment and takes a deep breath before ringing the bell.

Heavy steps draw closer to the door and he's grateful it's Blip on the other side when it swings open.

"Thought you'd bailed for a bit. My wife's annoyed enough about having to split a Cornish hen, man. She would've been extra mad had you not come."

"She made Cornish hens?"

"Of course. She's Evelyn."

Mike smiles at that and knows Blip appreciates the hell out of his wife's culinary skills. The scent of rosemary, lemon, and thyme grows stronger as he moves toward their kitchen.

His eyes alight to Ginny first. She's piled her hair on top of her head; her riotous curls form a sort of halo around her and she looks so young and unincumbered. She's setting the table, but looks up when he and Blip enter the room.

Mike's entire body seizes as he waits for her reaction. Is she annoyed? Is she angry?

Either of those are preferable to indifferent.

What he gets surprises him—a smile. A real smile that makes her dimples pop and lights up her eyes, and all but stops his heart.

Yeah, he's really fucked.

He returns her smile and sets the bottle of wine on the edge of the table. She's been tasked with setting it, and Mike takes the opportunity he's presented.

"Can I help?" he asks even as he's moving around the table to take the stack of plates from her.

She nods and tosses a quick 'thanks' his way. He ends up trailing behind her, placing plates after she's set the placemats.

Mike ignores Blip's pointed looks, staying a few steps behind Ginny while she works.

He starts to ask about Sergio, but bites back the question when he remembers she didn't actually tell Mike about the man. The last thing he wants to do is give her reason to stop speaking to him again.

The screen door slides open and a cacophony of feet and ragged breath barrel through. The twins are laughing with Sergio trailing behind them, spinning a soccer ball in his hands.

He's got an easy smile on his face, and his forehead is dotted with sweat, but he doesn't seem to mind.

"I think you've got a couple of soccer players in your midst, Blip," Sergio says and both Blip and Mike scowl a bit at the notion.

"Who knows?" Evelyn cuts her eyes leveling a look at Blip. "They're pretty into following in their father's footsteps at the moment, but we'll not rule anything out."

Ginny giggles a little and and turns her attention to Sergio whose focus is on Mike.

"Sergio, this is Mike Lawson," Ginny supplies. "Mike, Sergio."

Mike glances over at Ginny—her cheeks are flush and she's biting her bottom lip, her shoulders slightly hunched. Mike doesn't understand that last bit.

"Hey man, it's good to meet you," Sergio moves to the table and holds out a hand to Mike. "I'm a big fan, an even bigger fan though after listening to Ginny talk about you."

Mike resists the urge to preen or look at Ginny as he takes the younger man's hand. "It's good to meet you, too. You're a soccer player?"

Mike knows this, of course. Would deny looking up the LA Galaxy's stats and roster except under extreme duress.

Sergio nods. "I am. Not as exciting when I'm in a house surrounded by professional baseball players, but—" he breaks off with a shrug and Mike has to admit the little puke is pretty charming.

Dinner is amiable. Sergio is kind, funny, and quick-witted. He doesn't crowd Ginny's space, though he seems preternaturally occupied with a curl of hair that's escaped from her bun.

Mike doesn't get it. If he and Ginny were together he'd have a hard time keeping his hands to himself.

The easy transition of Ginny in his brain from friend to something way more than friend should startle him, but it feels right.

"Mike!"

He looks up to see four concerned pair of eyes staring at him. He rolls his shoulders and shakes his head. His eyes meet Ginny's and he smiles wanly. "Sorry, Baker. What'd I miss?"

She cocks her head to the side and points to his plate. "I asked if you're done. Ev wants to get to dessert."

"Yeah," he replies as he pushes back from the table. Evelyn and Ginny insist that Sergio is a guest, and doesn't need to help, so Mike seizes the opportunity. He motions for Evelyn to stay and helps Ginny clear the table.

They work in tandem with quick movements, clearing leftovers from plates, rinsing them, then loading them in the dishwasher.

Mike gets out the plates for dessert while Ginny takes the ice cream from the freezer. Evelyn's brandy apple pie sits on the stovetop.

"You cut, I scoop?" Ginny asks drawing near to Mike's elbow. He's hit with a wave of bergamot over the scent of sugar and cinnamon from the pie that he knows is her. He wonders where the scent emanates from—her hair, her skin?

Mike reaches into the proper drawer for the pie server stepping away before he lowers his head to Ginny's shoulder and does something he can't take back.

"You know your way around The Sanders' kitchen fairly well, old man." Ginny speaks as she reaches across him to set a scoop of ice cream on the pie he just plated.

He takes a small step away, and hopes it isn't overly obvious. He shrugs before he replies. "I spent a lot of time here post my separation from Rachel. Almost overstayed my welcome, but luckily Blip is a forgiving guy."

Ginny laughs. "Don't you mean Evelyn is forgiving?"

"Ha! No. Evelyn is perpetually annoyed with me."

"Can't say I blame her, grumpy."

"Be nice," he mumbles as he feels her brush against him again. He can't move anymore or she'll notice and this tentative peace between them is about as stable as gasoline drenched tinder.

Ginny moves away to put the ice cream back, but pauses to pull out two bowls for the twins. He watches her rush to the pantry and return with an armful of things he's pretty certain Blip and Evelyn don't know exist.

"For the twins," she states simply as she puts magic shell, crushed hazelnuts, cherries, and butterscotch over the vanilla cream. She tops each bowl with a healthy dollop of whipped cream. She casts her eyes over her shoulder at the table then back at Mike.

"Cover me while I take these to them."

"Cover you how? Wait," he opens the drawer beside her hip and slips a spoon into each bowl before meeting her gaze.

She gives him a smile so bright he almost leans down and kisses her.

He grabs up a couple of plates of pie and shakes the idea from his head. He nods in the direction of the twins' room. "Go on, I've got this."

She dashes around the corner, completely conspicuous. It makes Mike laugh as he delivers dessert to the adults.

"Has Ginny gone off to ply my kids with sugar?" Evelyn asks and Mike ignores the question to get the rest of the pie from the kitchen.

\-----

Mike doesn't mean to snoop (at least that's what he tells himself) when Ginny walks Sergio to his car at the end of the evening.

Mike looks up until the moment he sees Ginny lean into Sergio, and then turns back to the Sanders' kitchen.

Evelyn has put three cups and saucers set out on the counter, a French press set to the side of them.

He nods in appreciation as she pours him a cup, sliding the carton of creamer towards him.

"You know, that's not forever, right?"

Mike doesn't ask, doesn't try to deny knowing precisely what Evelyn means. He shrugs. "He seems like a good guy, she could do much worse."

Evelyn takes the creamer back from him and tips a little into her own cup. "Oh he's very nice, and charming, and from what Ginny says a really excellent kisser."

Mike's lips turn down on a scowl before he can stop it.

"Yeah," Evelyn says, "that's what I thought. You're like an easy reader book, Mike."

"That feels like it should be insulting."

Evelyn laughs. "You're not so good at hiding things and Blip's had the idea you've been in love with Ginny for a while now, but I couldn't believe it until I saw it myself."

Mike's heart pounds and he sets down his coffee cup. "I don't know how you know, I barely know."

"You absolutely know, Mike, but for some dumb reason you're pretending like you don't."

"It not dumb. I ruin things, Ev, and I won't do that to her," he says with finality. "There's a lot I can handle and a lot I can deal with, but that's not something I could ever forgive myself for. She deserves better."

The front door opening halts the rest of their conversation. Ginny all but skips back into the room, happiness radiating from her as she clutches a few tulips in one hand. Her cheeks are just the slightest shade of pink and her lips look dewy and extra plump.

Mike looks away and picks up his cup of coffee to hide his grimace.

"Would you like some tulips, Ev?" Ginny asks brightly as she fishes a vase out from beneath the sink.

"Don't you want to keep them?" Evelyn replies.

Ginny shakes her head. "No, not really. I mean, they're nice, and he's lovely, of course, but I never really know what to do with them."

Evelyn laughs. "They're frivolous and pretty. They're meant to be looked at."

"It's kind of depressing to watch them die," Ginny says as she runs a finger around the bright red bulb. "He's the first guy to ever buy me flowers. It's kind of a weird thing to do when you think about it."

Mike doesn't know whether to laugh or curse. Hearing Ginny speak the things he's always believed about flowers doesn't make him feel any better.

"Do they make you happy?" Evelyn asks.

Ginny's smile knocks the breath out of Mike's chest. He gets it now. If flowers make her smile that way, he'll buy a goddamn greenhouse.

"Then that's their purpose," Evelyn finishes, not needing any further reply from Ginny.

\------

"Did one of you take the card from these flowers?"

Mike's head snaps up as Ginny comes into the room, a vase of daisies tucked beneath her arm.

Murmurs of 'no' and 'nice flowers' and various reponses ranging from intrigued to annoyed ring out through the clubhouse.

Ginny rolls her eyes and stalks over to where Mike and Blip sit.

"Which one of you has the card?"

Mike throws up his hends. "I don't. We stopped reading your personal stuff a while ago, rookie."

Ginny scoffs. "Right, just last week you two stole that box of chocolates that was sent to me."

"We had to taste test," Blip says, "make sure it was good enough for you."

"The card, please," Ginny replies with mirth in her tone. She has her hand outstretched and both Mike and Blip give her a low five. "You're both the worst."

She leaves the two of them to pepper the rest of the guys for info.

"You trying to compete with Sergio now?" Blip asks after a moment.

Mike raises and eyebrow and shakes his head. "What are you talking about?"

Blip stares at Mike for a moment before shaking his head. "Okay man, however you want to play this is fine by me, but you know my wife and I don't have secrets and I know for a fact you asked her about flowers and what she thought Ginny would like."

Mike throws a roll of athletic tape at him and motions for him to be quiet. "It's not a big deal. Ginny said she'd never gotten flowers before whatshisface and I just wanted to fix that—I mean—you know what I mean."

"Mhmm," Blip intones. "I hope you know what you're doing man, and didn't you say flowers are impractical or something?"

"Shut up, Blip."


	3. Of Snapdragons and Hyacinth

"You sure you don't mind driving me home?" Ginny asks Mike for the fourth time.

He grits his teeth against the irrationality of being annoyed with her. She never would've asked him that before—just before everything got complicated with Amelia, and the photos, and his own garbage driving a wedge between them.

He hates that she still holds on to that bit of apprehension between them, that she's still a little tentative around him.

"I'm sure, Baker. What, did you really expect me to just leave you here?"

She shrugs. "Sergio would've gotten here eventually if I called him, and I could disturb Blip and Evelyn's date night, or probably bummed a ride with Livan, so—"

"Nice to know where I fall in your hierarchy," he says more gruffly than he intends.

"I didn't mean—"

"It's fine, Baker," he responds in an overly bright way. "I'm just teasing."

He's not. And she knows he's not, too.

Silence descends between them as Mike pulls out of the Petco parking lot. He racks his brain trying to think of something—anything to say to dissolve the tension that's building between them.

"I'm sorry," Ginny says, her face turned towards the window. "For...I shouldn't have made such a big deal about you and Amelia. It really wasn't my place."

Mike's mouth drops open and his hands tighten on the steering wheel. "Uh...okay. What brought on this?"

"It's just," she shifts in her seat and turns to look at him. "I get it now. I do. At least I think I do. This whole thing can be so lonely and you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy, and if that's Amelia or whoever, then I'm happy for you. Just, don't talk about me, maybe?"

Mike's caught between disbelief and annoyance, with the latter sliding quickly into something that feels like pain.

"You weren't—Amelia and I weren't all that—"

"I don't need to know," Ginny cuts him off with a wave of a hand. "The point is, I shouldn't have been so quick to judge and maybe I was a little harsh to the two of you, so I'm sorry. And if it's her or someone else that makes you happy, then so be it."

Mike feels like he's in the middle of the weirdest breakup ever. He doesn't have the words to say to Ginny—he does but he can barely form them himself.

"It was months ago now, rookie. It's no big deal, and you don't owe me an apology. Amelia and I kept something from you that we shouldn't have and that was wrong of us all around."

She nods and her sigh fills his car. "Thanks." Her relief is palpable, but Mike's even more on edge than before.

"So things are going well with Sergio?" he hears himself ask. There's a dull buzzing in his head and he feels off center.

"Yeah," Ginny breathes out and that one word holds a breadth of meaning. It's contentment and promise and satisfaction.

"That's good," Mike struggles to keep his tone even. "He seems like a good guy, even if soccer is a stupid game."

"You're hilarious," she replies dryly.

Mike grips the steering wheel harder and bites back what he wants to say. He doesnt have a right to interfere with who she chooses to date that's her prerogative.

She has no clue how he feels about her. Or maybe she does and she's letting him down easy, letting him off the hook so he doesn't have to make an ass of himself.

"Evelyn mentioned something about you and Rachel," Ginny's voice startles him a bit. "She said that maybe there's a chance you two are headed towards..." she trails off and Mike wants to turn and look at her, but if he does that there's no telling what he'll do next. So he keeps his eyes set on the road in front of him.

There was a maybe—a month or so back when Ginny still wasn't talking to him, when Amelia did her best to avoid him altogether. Rachel came by his house and they talked and she admitted to maybe not being completely over him. That glimmer of hope started to fade when he realized maybe she was right all along and the chase was better than getting what he actually wanted.

Regardless, he was going to have to kill Blip for telling Evelyn that.

"Uh, yeah," he says finally. "Maybe. I don't know."

"I hope things can work out for you two if that's what you really want."

"Yeah?" Mike questions. He doesn't know what's going on, or why Ginny decided now would be a good time to crush his heart. Had she figured out he'd been sending bouquets to her with no card just to see her face when she got them?

"Of course, old man. I told you, I just want you to be happy."

\-----

"What kind of flowers are those?" Omar asks, leaning around Ginny to see the flowers in her hands.

"Snapdragons," Mike replied in a brusque tone that has Omar stepping out of Ginny's space.

Ginny turns in his direction and lifts an eyebrow.

"What rookie?" Mike returns. "I'm very knowledgeable on flowers, I'll have you know."

"Yeah, just ask the women he's been with before," Stubbs chuckles and Mike throws him a dark look.

The green, white, and pink flowers are certainly unique and unlike any that have been delivered to Ginny before.

"Hey Baker!" Sonny yells across the clubhouse. "Can you please tell your boyfriend to stop trying to show all of us up. My wife keeps going on and on about how cute these weekly flower deliveries are."

"How does she even know about them?" Ginny asks.

"Evelyn," a few of the guys chorus together.

Ginny laughs and Blip just shakes his head, turning his chair around to face his cubby.

"Guys it's not my fault you lack any kind of romantic skill," Ginny says and it's met with light heckling here and there. "But noted, any way."

"I remember what it was like to be so admired," Stubbs croons.

"In the alternate reality of your mind, I'm sure," Sonny says as he lobs a ball of paper at Stubbs' head.

Mike hangs back and watches the growing fracas between the men with a mixture of annoyance and admiration. He sits up straighter when Ginny wheels a chair between him and Blip.

"So you're not stealing my cards, but you've got to help me figure out who's sending these so I can at the very least say thank you."

Blip nods over his shoulder. "What if it's one of these guys?"

"Then I'll have to tell him that I'm dating someone and even if I weren't, I wouldn't date them. Besides, I don't think it's one of these guys. They all see me as their teammate."

Mike stares at Ginny and wonders if she's really so oblivious, doesn't care, or has no idea how incredibly appealing she really is.

Neither he nor Blip say anything to negate her words, but they do share a knowing look.

"Any way if they keep up, I'm going to have to tell Sergio, and I don't want things to get weird between us."

"You haven't told him about the flowers?" Mike asks and for some reason this tidbit pleases him.

"No," she says lightly. "It's only been a couple and it's not worth mentioning yet, right? I mean, I don't know if he would, but I'm trying to avoid possessive boyfriend as much as possible."

"Is that something you worry about?" Mike asks and his head is filled with not great images of an overly possessive Sergio.

She tips her head to the side and stares a him. "No, not really. Just, you know, cautious and what not."

Mike decides maybe he shouldn't send her any more flowers. He doesn't want to complicate her life.

\-----

Two months without any secret flower deliveries and things go back to semi-normal.

Mike and Ginny return to their pre-Amelia rhythm—slowly. He aches when she casually brings up Rachel or Amelia or her interest in his happiness.

He doesn't ask about Sergio. Any information he finds out about the Galaxy striker is seconhand from Blip or overheard from Ginny.

He doesn't want to know how great Sergio is.

They're on the road, playing a series against the Cardinals and everyone is tense, waiting for the inevitable confrontation between Davis and Baker—again.

They should've looked out for Falcone, who never considered his vendetta against Ginny settled. He sends a fast ball at her hip and the split second after it hits her, both teams are rushing the field.

Mike doesn't rush the mound like everyone else; he makes a beeline to where Ginny is hunched over with Trevor clutching her elbow.

Mike plows into the younger man, and bends down to get eye level with her.

"Gin—"

She's gritting her teeth and and her eyes are flooded with pain. Davis knocks into him, but he's quickly pushed aside by Blip.

Mike hauls Ginny up and moves her off the pitch. He knows she's got a walk out of this, but it'll be a moment before the field is clear and he'll be damned if he just stands around and let's her be in pain.

He sees two trainers and a medic moving in their direction, and he doesn't wave them off. Ginny is limping and she barely has a hold of his arm as if she's already thinking through the optics of the moment.

He doesn't let her go until she's seated in the dugout. He moves out of the way so the medic can look her over. He starts to leave the dugout to join the team on the field when her voice stops him.

"Don't even think about it, Lawson." She gives him a look between fury and disbelief. "You might break a hip."

"You're fucking hilarious, rookie."

He winces along with her when the medic brushes over her hip bone. He should turn away, but he doesn't as she pulls the edge of Ginny's pants down revealing the start of a nasty bruise.

"Let's get you iced down," the medic begins, but Ginny shakes her head.

"We've got a game to finish."

"Don't be stubborn," Mike interjects.

"That's gonna clear out eventually, and I've got to run bases."

"No you don't," Mike replies. "You're gonna get you settled with ice and some pain killers."

"Mike—"

"You have two options," Mike begins and there's an edge of worry in his tone, "you go voluntarily or you go off on a stretcher. Your choice."

The withering looks Ginny sets on Mike would probably make a lesser man cry. As is, Mike's terrified of what she'll say to him after the game.

\-----

Mike stands awkwardly with a six-pack poised in one hand and the other raised to Ginny's hotel room door.

She refused to speak to him after he issued his ultimatum, choosing the option where she voluntarily left the pitch instead of being rolled off on a stretcher.

She didn't join the team for a late meal either, so that's how Mike ends up in front of her door, waiting for her to answer.

When the door swings open, there's a frown on Her face. She's holding an ice pack against her left hip and is in a purple tank top and fuzzy pajama pants.

Mike hates how frequently the word adorable flits through his mind when it comes to Ginny.

"Peace offering, rookie," Mike says as he holds up the pack of beer. "And I figured I could buy you room service if you haven't eaten yet."

"You're such a hero, Mike." She rolls her eyes and opens her door wider to let him in. There's a tray already there of picked over salmon burger and fries.

Mike moves to take a seat on the couch, popping open a bottle of beer once he's settled and handing it to Ginny. "How do you feel?"

"Frustrated you wouldn't let me finish the game," she replies after she takes a sip. "Annoyed to be the topic of conversation on every sports channel again. I know how you love things being about me twenty-four-seven."

Mike winces. "That was an asshole thing to say, Baker. I'm—"

"But you know what's really irritating?" she interrupts him. "Trevor won't stop calling and texting. My mother is completely worried. Amelia is concerned this might harm future endorsements and Sergio wants to fight Falcone."

Only two of the things Ginny listed really concern him. "And what do you want, Baker?"

She lets out a sigh and turns to him with a big shrug. "I don't know, but I really wanted someone to ask me what I wanted. So thank you."

Mike nods, dumbfounded. Something warm and unnameable unfurls in his chest at the look of sheer gratitude on her face.

"Well, we can't fix all those problems tonight, so how about we watch a movie?"

Ginny nods enthusiastically and Mike groans as he reaches for the remote. Ginny's phone rests beside it and lights up just as he takes the remote in hand.

Sergio's name is on the display and he turns to look at Ginny who merely glances at the screen before settling back into the couch beside him. She doesn't move to answer it when it rings again, and Mike doesn't encourage her to do so.

He flips on the TV and goes to the guide, pointedly avoiding and sports round ups as he searches the movie channels.

"The Departed?" he asks.

Ginny shakes her head. "Not really in the mood for Scorsese."

Mike continues to flip through the options, and grins when he finds a gem. "This is perfect—Catch Me If You Can."

"Ah, your boy Leo and a redhead," Ginny quips. "This movie is your kryptonite."

Mike frowns a little at the last part, gently bumping her leg with his knee. He nods to her half eaten food. "Want to get something else?"

She nods happily and grabs the menu to push it in his direction.

\--

Mike startles awake, the light from the TV casting long shadows around the room.

His right arm tingles and feels heavy and when he goes to move it, he realizes his rookie is using him as her personal pillow.

The bag of ice from her hip has melted and rests wetly against his thigh. He grabs it and drops it off the edge of the couch before he settles back in beside her.

He should wake her, he should disentangle them and leave and go to his room, because he knows—he knows—staring at her like this can't lead to anything good.

Her lips are parted and her lashes flutter against the top of her cheeks. She looks so young and so relaxed that it really ups Mike's own somewhat lecherous feelings.

He shifts slowly to turn his body into hers, his unoccupied hand brushes away the hair from her face. He really should go, but a few more minutes can't hurt.

The next time Mike wakes up it's to Ginny calling his name and giggling.

"Mike," she whispers and laughs and when his eyes flutter open her face is very close to his.

He sits back abruptly and takes in the tangle of limbs between the two of them. Somehow she ended up in the circle of his arms, their legs twined together.

"You're like a sloth on a branch, old man," she says in a low, gravely voice. "Never would've thought you'd be so aggressively cuddly."

He really isn't. He likes his space when he sleeps, it's usually the other way around—women clinging to him. He hasn't been inclined to hang on to a woman like this in years.

"Sorry rookie."

"'S'okay," she yawns and places her head back on his shoulder. She's either too sleepy to care or something else Mike can't think about. "You're sort of like a big, cuddly furnace."

"Stop saying I'm cuddly."

"Like a big teddy bear," she laughs and scratches at his beard. "A big, grumpy, cuddly bear."

"Well, I'm gonna go."

Ginny laughs and gasps as she falls back onto the couch when Mike extracts their limbs from one another.

She's still laughing when he stands to stretch, his back aching as he does. He turns back to the couch to find Ginny staring at him, her expression and open and content.

"Thanks for checking on me," she says in a small voice Mike kind of hates. As if he has any choice in staying away from her.

He catches her wince and offers to get her some more ice, which she declines. "I'm okay. I'm going to take some pain stuff and get in the actual bed."

She smiles and sighs and he opens his mouth to tell her good night as he phone lights up on the table again. Sergio.

"You should probably answer that," Mike hears himself say and gets instantly annoyed. "I'll see you tomorrow, Baker."

He leaves the room before he can hear her answer him or Sergio.

\-----

"Those are definitely apology flowers, Baker," Sonny remarks as the bus pulls into the team entrance at Petco. He gives a low whistle and shakes his head. "Now these I'm totally familiar with."

The team is back home in San Diego after winning the series against the Cardinals. Everyone's bone tired and weary and excited to see their spouses, or girlfriends, and/or kids.

Sergio is definitely the odd man out of the bunch, but he doesn't seem to mind and the WAGs don't seem to mind his presence either.

Mike frowns as they pull in, wanting to drown out the good natured ribbing from the guys towards Ginny. Her face flushes as she sits beside him. She leans around him to see what Sonny's talking about, and her shoulder brushes against his chest.

"Oh," Ginny says softly so only Mike can hear. He doesn't know how to classify the utterance.

She doesn't rush off the bus like he expects, but takes her time even though they're at the front of the bus.

"You okay, rookie?" Mike asks as she fiddles with the straps of her backpack.

She turns her face up to his and shrugs. "I don't really want to have a confrontation here in front of everyone."

Mike snorts. "You never shy away from confrontation."

"Haha," she replies dryly. She shifts back and forth and finally straightens up and gives him a nod before slowly descending the steps.

Mike hangs back and takes in the scene. He tells himself it's just to be sure. Blip and Evelyn sidle up beside him and he turns a quick glance on them before directing his attention back to Ginny and Sergio.

Ginny accepts the flowers from Sergio, but shakes her head when he reaches for her, throwing a cursory glance over her shoulder. Mike's eyes meet hers and she turns a little pink before she nods at him them leads Sergio away.

Mike heaves a sigh and hitches his backpack a little higher on his shoulder. Blip claps him on the back and throws him a look he doesn't quite know how to interpret.

_END OF PART THREE_


	4. Of Bearded Irises

The fury emanating from Ginny as she walks through the clubhouse gets the team to give her wide berth, and concerns Mike. 

Blip leans over and asks if Mike knows what's up, and the fact that Blip is in the dark too amps up Mike's concern. 

He takes a few moments and lets her settle in her space before going back to her room and knocking on the door. 

He gets no response at first, so he knocks a little louder the second time and calls out her name. 

"Baker, open up," Mike says as braces his hands along the doorway. 

Her door swings open and she's got the phone pressed to her ear. Mike frowns and points over his shoulder, but she waves him into her room before shutting the door. 

"I've got to go, doc. My captain just walked into the room. Thanks for taking my call," Ginny says into the phone. 

Mike's heart speeds up. Ginny doesn't look hurt, so it's probably not her general doctor, so that means her psychiatrist. 

Ginny bites her lip and makes a small circuit of the room before she nods and says yes into the phone. She says a quick goodbye before ending the call and shutting down her phone. 

"You alright?" Mike asks. She stares at him for a moment and shakes her head before she has a seat. 

"I had a panic attack this morning," she answers. He wants to scoot closer, and take her hand in his; he does the first part, but he refrains from taking her hand—barely. 

"You alright now?"

She nods. "It's been a little while since its happened and it came out of nowhere." She rolls her shoulders and breathes in and out slowly. "Sorry about before."

Mike shakes his head. "You don't need to apologize. Some of those guys come in here with way worse attitudes and everyone just deals. They'll deal with yours, too. Hell, they deal with mine everyday."

She chuckles and the sound settles low and warm in Mike's belly. 

"You know you can always call me if you need help, Baker," Mike says as he zeroes in on her eyes. "Whatever is going on, even if you're pissed as hell at me, you can still always call. I promise I'll be there."

Ginny's eyes go wide and for a second Mike thinks he's said to much, but when a smile to rival any he's ever seen from her lights her face he doesn't care if he looks foolish. 

"Such a cuddly, grumpy bear."

"Okay," Mike throws up his hands and moves toward her door. "I try to be nice and I get mocked, noted Baker."

She laughs and grabs a hold of the edge of his jersey and stops him from leaving. Her arms wrap around his middle before he knows what's happening. 

"Thanks, Mike." She release him almost as quickly as she wrapped him in her arms and he's a little upset he took so long to process the moment. 

"Any time, rookie."

\------

"Where's your boyfriend, Baker?" Salvamini asks. "It's friends and family day, and my wife wanted to meet Mr. Flowers."

"First of all, you never get to pick nicknames," Ginny says, making the men around her laugh. "Second of all, you're not concerned with your wife meeting my boyfriend?"

"What? He's not hotter than me."

"He's so hotter than you."

Mike rolls his eyes and tunes out the rest of the conversation. Ginny hadn't mentioned Sergio in a few weeks and he hoped—he hoped—that meant that just maybe...

"He's not coming," he hears Ginny say and tunes back into the conversation. "The Galaxy have a game today."

Salvamini nods. "That means you'll probably get some flowers today."

Ginny shrugs and rolls her eyes. "It's the only thing you guy don't devour when I get, so maybe."

"Hey," Blip hits his arm and draws his attention away from where Ginny is holding court in the middle of the clubhouse. 

"What's up?"

"Evelyn says Ginny and Sergio are having issues."

"What kinds of issues?" Mike asks and his breath hitches. He frowns as he thinks through possible ways to maim Sergio. 

"Apparently the parents convo came up and Sergio brought up potentially moving in together and Ginny—"

"They've been dating for a minute!" Mike interrupts. "How the—"

"Hey!" Blip throws up his hands, "I'm just the messenger. And it's almost been almost four months, man."

"Four months does not mean moving in together," Mike returns. "And what was the parent conversation?"

Blip sighs and leans back in his chair. "Sergio wants Ginny to meet his folks and he wants to meet hers."

"And what did Evelyn say that Ginny said about that?"

"You're like two gossiping old ladies, you know that?" Ginny interjects and pulls up a seat between them. She smiles broadly at Mike and flicks a finger at his beard. Mike's lips pull up in a smile involuntarily. 

"I didn't realize the Galaxy had games this early in the year," Blip says and Mike decides he's gonna buy the guy the best case of scotch he can find. 

Ginny's grin falls and she shrugs. "We're not—I'm pretty sure we broke up last night, but—"

"Uh," Mike starts, ignoring the hurried thump of his heart. "How are you pretty sure and not completely sure?"

"I don't know!" Ginny throws up her hands. "It's not like I've got a lot of experience breaking up with guys. They usually just kind of flake and stop talking to me or they lie and leave to play for the Cardinals."

Mike manages not to wince, but sees Blip shift awkwardly in his seat. "So...what did you say?"

"He came over last night and I told him that I think we should split up."

"Sounds pretty straight forward to me," Blip says. "So what's the problem?"

"The problem is he thinks it's only temporary because he thinks he rushed me with the whole meet the parents deal, which he did, but things weren't working a long time before that. It was just nice to have someone, honestly, but—" she stops speaking and shrugs and her eyes drift over to Mike's. "It was fun, I just don't want to have him lingering thinking there's hope."

"Don't answer his calls, he'll get it eventually," Mike says. 

Ginny rolls her eyes. "Great advice, old man. Hadn't thought of that."

\------

"Where are you going, Baker?" Mike asks as she starts to pass his seat on the plane. 

She points to the back, an obvious expression on  her face. "The back, Mike. Aren't you going over stuff with Sonny?"

"Yeah, but he'll live with not sitting next to me. He likes to hog the armrests."

" _You_ hog the armrests."

"And you've finally stopped fighting me on it. Sit, rook." Mike moves his backpack and pats the seat. 

Ginny's hands rest on his thighs as she scoots by him and Mike fights valiantly to not close his eyes and savor the moment.

They're on the road to Atlanta for a quick turn around series that could put them in the top slot for the wildcard if they play as well as they have been. They're on an eight game winning streak, and and it looks promising. 

"Are you annoyed not to be starting?" Mike asks. 

After a lot of hemming and hawing, it's decided Duarte just isn't ready to be the primary catcher for the Padres. They rotate him heavily, but Mike's back behind home plate where he belongs. 

Ginny shakes her head. "No, actually. My shoulder's been achy lately. I'm happy to rest it."

Mike eyes her sharply. "Achy how, Baker?"

"Calm down, grumpy. Skip knows, the trainers know, Amelia knows. I've got a plan and about a hundred appointments when we get back."

"Why don't I know?"

"You do. I just told you. Are you having a senior moment?"

Mike huffs. "I meant before. How long has everyone who isn't me known about this pain? And why am I last on this list?"

"One day, Mike," Ginny shakes her head and grins. "Literally one day, and I had every intention of telling you today. So, hey here we are."

Mike's shoulders sag as he lets out a long breath. "Okay."

"Whew!" Ginny says and runs a hand across her forehead. "That was close, almost had to sit with an angry, petulant Mike for four hours."

"You're hilarious, Baker."

"I wouldn't keep something like that from you," she says softly as she nudges him with her shoulder. "You're my catcher, and my captain, of course—"

"And your friend, rookie. Who you sometimes call late at night to ask about opinions on raisins in various pastries, I would think this would rate a call, too."

She laughs. "It was late when Amelia finished setting up everything. I know how you are about your beauty sleep."

Mike points to his face. "You don't get this handsome cutting corners."

Ginny laughs so hard she draws the attention of some of the guys surrounding them. 

"It's not that funny."

\------

"No."

"Please?"

"Baker, it is our day off. A day to rest. A day to gear up for the fourth game against the Braves. Not to go traipsing around Atlanta and getting stuck in the world's worse traffic. Seriously, how is this worse than LA?"

Ginny frowns at him, her bottom lip poked out in the most endearing way. "It's the World of Coke, Mike. We only come to Atlanta once a year, maybe. Please come with me."

He sets down his cup of coffee and stares at her across the table. "It's a tourist trap."

"We are tourists."

"We are professional athletes."

"Who are visiting a city, thereby making us tourists."

Mike tilts his head. "I don't think that's how it works."

Ginny sighs and lets her head fall forward on the table. "Fine! I'll ask Livan if he wants to go with me since you're being curmudgeon."

"Fine," he sighs, annoyed that's all it takes to get him to do something. "But you have to do something for me if we do this."

\------

"Are you falling asleep?"

"No."

"Baker—"

"I'm not falling asleep, old man."

"But you're also not enjoying this which I don't understand. Also, you had about five different kinds of Coca-Cola, how can you even think of sleeping?"

Ginny sighs and rearranges her pillow against Mike's side. "This movie is kind of slow."

"This movie is a classic."

"It's a slow classic."

Mike grabs the remote and hits pause. " _Bull Durham_ is necessary viewing, rookie. The fact that you play baseball and haven't seen it is a tragedy."

"I've seen _A League of Their Own_."

"Also a classic. Hey, how would you feel about pitching in a skirt?"

"Haha," she replies and pokes Mike in the side. 

"Any way, the movie just started. It'll pick up."

She shrugs and adjusts the pillow again, her head propped against his shoulder. "Okay, I'm paying my best attention."

"Thank you."

Mike knows Bull Durham by heart, mouths the words at certain points. 

He feels Ginny shift against him and turns to see her grinning at him. 

"What rookie?"

She shakes her head and turns back to the screen in time to catch _the_ speech by Crash. Mike smiles indulgently as Kevin Costner talks about what he believes in. He feels Ginny shift beside him and he turns his gaze toward her. 

Her lips are parted and her gaze is intent on the screen in front of her. He looks at her for just a moment longer before he turns his attention forward again. 

"Did you model your catching style after Crash, old man?" she asks halfway through the film. 

"Ha! No, I didn't. Thanks rookie."

"I'm just saying. Awful lot of similarities."

"How so?"

"You're both grumpy. You're both excellent though unorthodox catchers. However, Costner's got a leg up on you. His face isn't being consumed by some tragic thing you call a beard. You can see how handsome Crash is."

"One day, you're going to appreciate the beard, Baker."

"Never."

As the end of the film approaches Mike suddenly remembers how much sex there is in the film. There's really no good way out of seeing it without making it even more obvious and awkward and it's movie sex. He should be fine. It'll be fine. 

He shifts just slightly to try to put space between them, but Ginny follows him, her head placed firmly against the side of his arm. 

Mike breathes a sigh of relief when Crash leaves to another minor team and the movie wraps as all romcoms do with Annie and Crash happily reunited. 

"That wasn't so terrible," Ginny says on a yawn as she sits up straight. She sends her arms over her head in a stretch, a slight wince marring her features. 

"Were you supposed to have your arm wrapped tonight, Baker?"

She sighs and nods. "It makes me feel trapped though and I hate it."

"Baker."

"Yes, captain, my captain?"

He smirks and shakes his head. "All during the game tomorrow, you sit in the dugout with your arm wrapped. You've got so much ahead of you, rookie, it'd be a shame to not do everything you can to protect it."

"Okay, okay!" she says throwing up her hands. "Since when have you gotten so good at guilt trips?"

\-----

"Are you really showing up empty handed?" Mike asks as Ginny gets into his car. She shrugs and turns toward him; the subtle scent of ginger and honey wafts towards him.

"Seriously, Baker?" Mike shakes his head. "I know you can't cook, or bake, but not even a bottle of wine?"

"I'm at the Sanders' all the time. I'm practically family."

"That makes it even worse that you're showing up empty handed. Here." He reaches into the backseat and brings up a bouquet of irises and places them in her lap. "Take these in."

Ginny laughs. "Why were you bringing flowers? And now what are you going to bring?"

He glances over at her when they reach the stoplight. She's brought the bouquet up, a smile spread across her face as she inhales the light scent. Mike wants to keep that memory forever. 

A honk behind him sets him in motion again and he shrugs. "There's still a pie back there."

"You made a pie?"

"I bought a pie, rookie. And a bottle of wine. Like a grownup going to someone else's house for dinner."

"Wow," Ginny quips. "Wine, flowers, pie...almost like you're expecting someone else to be there. Ooh, is Rachel gonna be there?"

It's such an odd thing to say, such a non-sequitir that it gives Mike pause. "No, rookie."

"You sure?"

"Yeah," he says simply not knowing how else to address her question. 

"So..." she begins and he hears her fiddle with the cellophane around the flowers. "You're not—I mean—you're not thinking of getting back together with her?"

Mike furrows his brow and grips the steering wheel harder. What is it with her and cars and this conversation?

"What would lead you to believe I am, rookie?"

"I dunno," she replies quietly. "Just...you know, trying to make conversation."

"About my ex-wife?"

"Sorry. We don't have to talk about it," she says quickly and Mike feels her unease creep between them. 

"You don't have to apologize, rookie," he states. "But there's nothing to know. Just want to know why you're curious."

She doesn't say anything for a beat and Mike hazards a glance at her. She's got her bottom lip between her teeth and she's worrying the plastic with her fingers again. "Just making friendly conversation."

Something in her tone makes him want to laugh—and hope. "Nothing's going to happen there. I think that's a part of my life that's really over."

"But you don't want it to be over, do you?"

Mike takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He shakes his head, "it's been over, rookie. I'm just finally sure that it's actually over. For good."

"Oh," she replies, and it's so quiet, Mike's not quite sure it's anything more than an exhale. 

Mike clears his throats and nods. "Any way, you really shouldn't turn up empty handed to dinner parties, rookie. You'll stop getting invited."

Ginny chuckles and Mike sees her bring them back up to smell them again. “I’m keeping these, by the way.”

_END PART FOUR_


	5. Of Mistletoe

"Anytime, old man."

"Hush, Baker," Mike says keeping his attention focused on the ball and putter lined up at his feet. 

Ginny sighs loudly and rattles the basket of golf balls that rests between them. "Seriously, Lawson, I—"

"You asked me to come along, you're just going to have to deal."

"It shouldn't take you this long to putt!"

Mike huffs out a laugh, and smirks. He knows what to do, but enjoys needling her during their golfing expedition. She's a better putter than he is, and that rankles because he's much better at bat than she is. 

He lines up his shot, pulls back, and swings. His eyes follow the trajectory of the ball and he nods, a low whistle on his lips. His drive makes a perfect arc, landing halfway down the range. He turns to Ginny and smiles, drags his golf club up around his shoulders. "You can't rush perfection, rookie."

"Your hips weren't square and that line drive was weak, old man. I've seen you hit a ball hundreds of yards. You barely made it halfway down the range."

"The mechanics are a little different, Baker," he grumbles. "Obviously, otherwise you wouldn't be doing so well."

"You hate losing to me, don't you?"

"I'm just thinking about my wallet if I lose this bet. You could very well eat me out of house and home."

They'd made a friendly wager that turned ultra competitive: whoever wins has to buy the other lunch and dinner for a week. 

"Ha-ha," she says and pushes him away from the tee to line up her shot. 

He can't help but take in how similar her stance is here as it is when she's at bat. She rolls her shoulders, bends her knees, and puts a slight arch in back. She turns her head and looks down the range before turning back to the tee and delivering a flawless swing that sends her ball sailing way past his own ball. 

She turns back to him and winks. "All in the hips, old man. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"Are you teeing up an old man joke?"

"Did you just make a golf pun at the driving range?"

Mike huffs. "I'll have you know, there's absolutely nothing wrong with my hips, Baker. They work just the way they're supposed to."

She shrugs. "If you say so. It's your turn; try not to take another twenty minutes, please. Time still matters to some of us."

"You're extra mouthy today, rookie. Been eating your Wheaties?"

"Just waiting for you to shut me up with your sensational skills, Lawson."

Mike grips the club in his hand tighter as unbidden images of the most effective methods of shutting her up race through his mind. He clears his throats and shakes his head. He hunches over and focuses on the ball at his feet. 

He manages not to yelp, but just barely, when her hand lands on his hip. She pushes his left hip back and reaches for his shoulder to do the same. 

"Doesn't that feel better?" she says, and her voice is low and so close. He feels the tickle of her hair on his arm, just below the cuff of his polo shirt. 

"Now, go," she says backing up, as if she hasn't disrupted his whole world. 

Mike takes a deep breath and swings, his ball sails through the air, way beyond where her previous putt landed. 

"You realize you're probably going to lose now, right rookie?"

"Doubtful, and I'm willing to up our bet to prove it."

"You're on, rook."

\------

"I still think you cheated," Mike mumbles around a bit of his steak.

Ginny grins around the lip of her beer and shakes her head. "Such a sore loser."

Mike's loss is about to put him out $300 on a fancy steak dinner at one of the best steakhouses in San Diego. 

The simple bet took on a new dimension when Mike began to drive better, but he still couldn't best Ginny. 

It doesn't pain him to treat her to an expensive dinner though, and in reality he got off pretty easy. 

"I can't believe a good steak dinner is all you wanted."

Ginny shrugs. "It's been a while. Ev is a phenomenal cook, but she believes in light, healthy meals. Sometimes, a girl just wants to indulge."

Mike huffs out a laugh and takes a drag of his beer. It's nice to go out with her like this, but more and more, these little outings of theirs have him wishing for so much more. 

"You headed out with the guys later?"

Mike's brows pull together and his lips turn down. "What are you talking about?"

She shakes her head. "Just what I said. Omar said something about hanging out later."

Mike's mouth drops open before he snaps it shut. "Are you sure he didn't just ask you out?"

Ginny laughs and the sound cuts through the din in the restaurant. "I'm positive. Omar is a friend."

"Uh huh," Mike replies as he pulls out his phone and shoots a quick text to Blip. "We'll see."

"You know it's possible you just missed the conversation."

"Or it's possible you're painfully oblivious," he mutters and shows her the text from Blip. "No one else got asked but you."

Ginny's shoulders pull up and she fiddles with the napkin in her lap. "I don't date ballplayers."

Mike nods and every part of him aches with that knowledge. "Yeah."

"Every time I think I make inroads with being one of the guys—"

"Baker, you'll _never_ be one of the guys."

"Thanks," she spits out and him. She balls her napkin up and sets it on the table with more force than necessary and starts to rise from the table. "Excuse me, I—"

"Hold on," Mike reaches for her arm and stops her movement. 

"I don't mean that in a negative way, and I don't mean that in a way you can't compete, or that you're not valuable. Christ, rookie, you have to know how incredible I think you are by now," he says in a rush. 

She moves to sit back down, but she crosses her arms and looks away from him. 

"I can't begin to understand what it feels like. It must suck just wanting to play ball and have to deal with ten thousand other unrelated things. You being viewed as a woman by your teammates isn't stopping you from showing how amazing you are. It detracts from none of your abilities, I swear. But we'd all have to go blind and deaf to forget you're a woman. That doesn't mean you're not incomparable. And don't worry about Omar, he's an idiot, but he'll understand soon."

As soon as Mike has a word with him. 

Ginny shakes her head. "I'll say something, there's no need for you to fight my battles. I can handle myself."

"Hadn't planned on doing anything, Baker."

"You're a terrible liar, old man."

\-----

"How'd I get talked into this?" Mike asks Blip as he looks around his home, which is currently packed with his teammates and their wives/girlfriends. 

Coming so close to the finals and missing the mark really hit Mike hard—harder than usual.

Mike feels his mortality in a definitive way when they go down 7-6 to the Mets in the wildcard race, and the thing is, they play a nearly perfect game, it's just not good enough and that grates on Mike's nerves. 

He tries to retreat, to put as much space between him and the team—and Ginny—as he can manage, but she won't let him. 

Ginny knocks him out of his funk, doesn't allow him to retreat even though she wants to herself.

"We'll get 'em next time, captain. I promise."

And that's how he ends up throwing an end of the season party at his house—because Ginny Baker asked him to. 

"We both know the answer to that, and she's over there."

Mike's eyes track to where Ginny stands with Salvamini and Sonny's wives and Stubbs' girl on the moment. She's got on the tightest pair of skinny jeans he's ever seen her wear and a top that stops just above her belly button. 

Mike grunts and leans back against the counter, watching as people come and go from the kitchen for more food and drinks. 

"I'm gonna have to move now," Mike says. "Why couldn't we do this at your house? You have far fewer breakable items and a bigger backyard."

Blip rolls his eyes and catches Evelyn calling him across the way. "Try to pretend like you remember how to have fun, okay?"

He starts to make a comment but Ginny rushes into the room past Blip, her cheeks flush and hands full of empty beer bottles. 

Mike relieves her of some of them and says thanks as she places them in the recycling bin. 

"Our teammates are slobs," she says casually as she moves around him. "And I just had to stop Stubbs for going upstairs with his new girl."

Mike groans and points at her. "This whole thing is your fault, you know."

She shakes her head and smiles. "Yeah, yeah, but you got out of the Christmas party this way. I just talked Evelyn into throwing it in instead."

She throws a saucy grin over her shoulder as she reaches into his fridge and pulls out two beers. "Why aren't you out enjoying the party?"

"You know better than to even ask me that, Baker."

"Hmm," she murmurs. "I suppose I do." She moves closer to him, until her right side is flush with his left. They lean against the counter in silence and survey the party around them. "Hinkley's walking around with mistletoe," she says before taking a drag of her beer. 

Mike grunts. "Why? It's November.”

"It's Hinkley," she replies simply. 

"Is that why you're in here now?" he asks her and she bites her lip and nods. "I don't want to be bamboozled into kissing one of those guys out of tradition or caught unaware or having to do it at all. So, I'm avoiding the possibility."

With him. Mike tries not to let his mind turn over the possibility of finding Hinkley and making him come into the kitchen. His eyes drift to her mouth for a second before he drags them away. "Can't believe you're hiding behind me."

"Your grumpiness is sure to scare everyone away, but particularly Hinkley. You're a good person to hide with when you want to be left alone."

He laughs in spite of himself, but doesn't deny her argument has merit. 

He catches Hinkley moving across the back of the house, someone clearly in his sights. 

"Thank you," Ginny whispers and knocks her hip into his. "The guys really needed this."

"The guys, huh?"

"Yeah, the guys, and me too," she sighs. "It's been a weird, hard season, and I know a lot of that has been on me, but—"

"You've hands down been the best thing about this season, rookie," Mike says so quickly that his brain takes a moment to catch up. She turns toward the counter and moves a little closer to him. 

"When you say things like that, you totally give away that you're not the curmudgeon you appear to be."

Mike can't concentrate on what she's saying. She's so close to him, close enough that her arm brushes his torso when he exhales. Close enough that he can see her pulse jump in her neck when he puts a steadying hand on her hip. Close enough to—

"Hey!" Evelyn's voice rings out and Ginny takes a quick step back from him. They turn together to see a somewhat chagrined Evelyn heading their way. 

"Blip wants to know if you want to play doubles pool."

Ginny shrugs. "I don't know, Ev, you know I'm not that great at it."

Evelyn cocks her head and laughs. "Uh, what—" Evelyn she begins, but Mike cuts her off. 

"That's fine, Blip isn't that good either, but Evy is. You can team up with her," Mike suggests trying to shake the effects of the moment before. He walks briskly out of the room to where the pool table stands blissfully empty. 

\-----

"You're a shark," Mike hisses as he watches Ginny sink the eight ball for the third time. 

She cocks one hip to the side and throws up a hand. "Maybe, maybe not."

"Definitely. You said you weren't that good," Mike grouses. 

"Why would you believe that, man? And why would you bet Ginny anything?" Blip asks. "She wins almost every bet you two have."

"You and me Baker,” Mike says ignoring Blip’s remarks. “One more game, winner takes all."

She smirks. "What's the bet, Lawson?"

A crowd formed around the table at the start of their game. A lot of good-natured ribbing happens, mostly directed towards Mike when it becomes apparent he's going to lose to Ginny. 

"Man, don't do this," Blip whispers but Mike plows on.  

"When I win Baker, you have to go onto Twitter and admit to your 2.5 million followers that you had a poster of me on your wall, but it'll never compare to the real thing."

Ginny's jaw clenches and Mike knows he's going to pay for it in some way when the gathered crowd around them laughs. 

"Okay, superstar," Ginny starts, "when I win, you're going to have to wear a Ginny Baker jersey on your next date, and get photographed by paparazzi while wearing it."

The raucous laughter grows, but Mike pays no heed to it, sticking out his hand to shake hers. 

"It's on, rook."

\-----

Mike complains for a solid half hour after he loses. 

Ginny moves around his kitchen like she owns the place, putting back serving ware and plates. She's humming something that vaguely sounds like Adele, but it's so bad he's not totally sure. 

He doesn't blame her for his loss. It's really fucking Hinkley and that goddamn fake parasitic mistletoe. 

Mike went in for his final shot, trying to sink the 8-ball when he catches Hinkley moving around the outside of the crowd towards Ginny. 

He ends up scratching and handing Ginny her win. 

He stays close to her the rest of the evening, complaining loudly about his loss and keeping an eye on out for Hinkley. 

"Don't be so glum, Mike," Ginny quips as she snaps the dishtowel at him. "It could've been so much worse. You'll look good with my name emblazoned across your back."

Her smile is so bright, so perfect that Mike doesn't even have it in him to frown at her. 

"Yeah, yeah, take your victory lap, Baker."

"Now," she starts as she drapes the dishtowel over the handle of the oven. "Whose gonna be the next girl you take out? Whoever she is, you've got to be sure that she's okay with you being property of Ginny Baker for the night."

She starts to laugh, and Mike wants to laugh with her, but she doesn't even know how close she is to the truth. 

\-----

"I need your help," Mike says as soon as the door swings open. 

Evelyn lifts an eyebrow and ushers Mike into her home. "With figuring out how to tell Ginny you love her?"

Mike's steps falter for a second before he sighs and nods. "Yeah."

"Mhmm," Evelyn says and walks into her kitchen. Mike follows and thanks her when she reaches into the fridge and hands him a beer. "I've never seen the level of foreplay you two have before in my life. Aren't you exhausted?"

Mike takes a long drag of his beer and shakes his head. "I don't know what I should do or if I can do anything or if Ginny even feels a tenth of what I feel."

"She feels it, too Mike."

Mike sighs. "Sometimes I'm not sure, sometimes I'm so sure. I've never felt this conflicted before."

Evelyn pulls down a wine glass from the cabinet and walks over to the wine fridge nestled between the cabinets. "I'm not going to say it's not complicated, but I can't watch you two pretend anymore, so I can only imagine how you must feel. So what do you need my help with?"

 _END PART FIVE_  


	6. Of Poinsettias and Garland

"You absolutely do not have to do this."

"Baker."

"Mike, I'm serious, I basically coerced you into this, and I know you have no problems saying no, usually, but—"

"Baker. I'm coming with you. We're literally already on the plane, where on earth do you expect me to go?"

"You could say you had some kind of emergency when we get to Raleigh, and then fly back to San Diego."

"Do you not want me there?"

Ginny goes wide-eyed and shakes her head. "I really, really do. You can help mitigate some of the awkward since my mom thinks you're great."

"Does she?"

Mike didn't hesitate for a moment when Ginny asks if he wants to go home with her for Christmas. His plan to sit in front of the TV with Lo Mein pale in comparison to spending the holiday with her in her childhood home.

It's too good of an offer to turn down. 

Ginny rolls her eyes and lets out a sigh, her body finally relaxing beside him. "Sorry, going home is never pleasant."

"You know, whatever your mother's faults, she absolutely adores you. That much is obvious. You're really lucky to have that."

Ginny turns toward Mike. "I know it. You don't have to, but you know if you ever want to talk about your mom or your family, I'll listen. You've listened to me more than enough. I owe you that at the very least."

They hit a rough patch of air and Mike's quick reflexes keep Ginny's ginger ale from shuddering off her tray table. 

"Thanks," she says as she pushes the can into the circular indentation on the tray. "Wouldn't have been fun to show up at home with a wet lap." She yawns and pushes a button to recline the fancy first class seat so it lays out flat. "You don't need me to entertain you, do you? I'm gonna sleep for the next thirty minutes. Try not to miss me too much." She throws him a grin as she arranges her pillow. 

"Somehow I'll manage, rook."

When they're thirty minutes from Raleigh, Mike decides he should wake her and get her something to eat before the hour and a half drive to Tarboro. 

"Baker," he calls out. She shifts but doesn't open her eyes; her mouth is parted ever so slightly and she's got a death grip on her pillow. He brushes his hand over her cheek for a breath of a moment before settling it on her shoulder and squeezing. 

She moans and bats at his hand. "Leave me be, Mike," she grumbles. "Too early."

"Rookie, it's almost evening and we're landing soon. You’ve got to wake up."

Ginny's eyes pop open. She looks so startled when they land on Mike that he grips her arm. "Hey, you're okay. Forget where you were?"

Wide eyed, she nods at him while she presses the button to put her seat upright. Mike hits his call button for the flight attendant and hands Ginny an extra bottle of water. 

"Thanks," she says and ducks her head. The tips of her ears are red and her cheeks are rosy. 

"Sleeping on planes can be disorienting," Mike remarks, grasping for something to say as he watches Ginny struggle. "You hungry?" She nods and finishes off half the bottle of water while Mike asks the flight attendant for the same meal he had. 

She raises an eyebrow in question. "Some kind of chicken mole thing. It was decent. Comes with a beet salad though, so I'll eat that."

"Ah, now it all makes sense," she replies in a sleep-roughened voice. "Sorry I slept so long."

"It's really okay. I got some reading done without you yammering at me."

"Anyone ever tell you that you're excessively charming?"

"Often, Baker."

\-----

"Breathe," he reminds her as he parks in the driveway behind a sturdy looking sedan. She's worrying her bottom lip between her thumb and forefinger, and her right leg is jumping up and down. 

She takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly with a nod. "Right. I don't know why I'm nervous."

"You do, and that's okay," Mike returns. "But, she's just your mom, and rookie, you've got me. And moms love me, remember?"

The statement makes her roll her eyes, but she also settles so Mike considers it as a win. 

They're slow to leave the car, and Mike wants to call her out on procrastinating, especially when he sees the curtain at the front of the house move. He takes Ginny's bag and his own in hand, ignoring her protests and questions about his back. 

It's dark, but from what Mike can tell, it's a pretty home with a large wrap around porch decked with chairs that look comfortable and inviting. 

The front door swings open and Janet Baker emerges, arms spread wide, a welcoming grin on her face. "Ginny Bean!" she exclaims and Mike vows to file that one away for future use. 

"Hi mom," Ginny responds in a quiet voice, but walks into the circle of her mother's arms. "You look good."

"So do you, baby girl. I'm so happy you decided to come home for Christmas." Janet grips her tightly for a few seconds more before dropping her arms and looking over Ginny's shoulder at Mike. "And I'm so glad you could join us, too, Mike." She walks over to him and pulls him down into a quick, fierce hug he doesn't expect. He wishes he'd set the bags down first. 

"Thank you for having me, Mrs. Baker. I hope it's not too much of an inconvenience." Mike says as she pulls away. 

"It's Janet," she smiles, "and not at all. Your name was gospel in this house for so long, I feel like you're practically family."

"Mom," Ginny groans and grabs for her mother's shoulder to lead her into the house. 

Mike laughs. "Oh, I hope you've got some stories to tell me, Janet."

"Well—"

"What's for dinner, mom?" Ginny interrupts whatever her mother is about to say. She cuts a look at Mike and his smile broadens when gentle color fills her cheeks. "We're starving."

Not even close to true, but with four days in the Baker homestead, Mike figures he'll hear stories soon enough. 

"I know you're always worried about training, but you're on vacation and this is home, so I made chicken fried steak." Janet smiles and pats Ginny's cheek. "Oh, and I'm going to make some cookies tonight. Mike, Ginny said your favorite cookie is oatmeal raisin, so I'll make a batch of those first."

"You really don't have to go out of your way for me," Mike replies. 

"It's no trouble at all. I've already got the dough all set."

"Well, I'm happy to help out in any way I can. I'm actually pretty good in the kitchen," Mike returns.

"He really is, mom," Ginny says with a smile. "He can make up for my lack of skill in that area while we're here. Makes perfect toast and everything."

"You're hilarious, Baker," Mike says wryly. 

Janet smiles at the two of them and shakes her head. "You two go on and get settled. I made sure there are fresh sheets on your bed, Ginny. And I put some extra towels in your bathroom. Oh, and I put some extra hangers in the closet if you want to hang anything, Mike."

"Uh," Ginny starts, "where's Mike staying?"

Janet raises an eyebrow. "I assumed with you. Because you're...Ginny, you've never brought a boy home before, so I figured—"

"Uh, no—"

"That's not—" Ginny and Mike start together. 

"Mom, we're not dating," Ginny says in rush. "So, he's going to have to stay in the guest room."

"Ginny, I turned the guest room into an office two years ago. There's no bed in there. And your brother will be home tomorrow. There's always the couch."

Ginny groans and shakes her head. "Not with his back."

"I'll be fine, rookie," Mike says in a low voice trying not to contemplate the notion of climbing into Ginny's childhood bed with her.

"No, you'll ache and complain the whole time old man, it's—" she pauses and lets out a sigh. "It's whatever. Let's go." As they make their way to he stairs, Janet calls after them. 

"Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes, Ginny!"

\-----

"I really can sleep on the couch, Baker," Mike says as they each the top landing. "I'll be fine, and—"

"That couch might actually be older than you are, Mike," she says and peers over her shoulder at him. "It's not a big deal. You're lucky mom switched out the twin for a queen though, otherwise I would've been sleeping on top of you."

Mike almost tumbles forward at the thought, but catches himself just in time. He swallows hard and follows behind her with their bags, making an abrupt stop when she pauses in the middle of the hall.

"What is it rookie?" he asks. "Change your mind?"

She slaps a hand to her forehead. "I can't believe I forgot to ask her."

"Ask who what?"

"Okay," she turns and hitches her backpack higher on her shoulder before she places her hands on her hips. "I'm going to tell you something, so just react and get it out of your system now. And you're strictly prohibited from taking any photos of my room."

Mike's brows pull together. "What the hell—"

"I had your poster on my wall. It might still be up there, I don't actually know how much my mom has changed, I haven't been home in years, but there you go."

Mike doesn't even try to keep the grin from his face. "Open the door, Baker."

"You have to promise me you won't tell anyone first."

Mike contemplates that for a moment. "I don't know, rookie, what have you got to trade me?"

Ginny's mouth falls open and Mike lets out a laugh. "You're the worst, Mike Lawson. What do you want? If it's admitting to Twitter about the poster, no dice."

"You have to promise me a favor. Any favor, to be determined at a later date. I promise," he holds up a hand when she opens her mouth. "That whatever it is won't involve admitting to my likeness being on your wall."

Ginny shifts from side to side and narrows her eyes at him before she huffs out her agreement. 

"Excellent. Let's see this shrine, Baker."

"It's not a shrine, just a poster," she mutters as she shuffles to the door and opens it slowly. 

Mike walks in behind her and smiles as he takes into the totality of the room; sure his poster is there, above her bed no less (even though it's not exactly her childhood bed), but the rest of the room feels like a crash course in Ginny Baker. There are trophies and plaques, framed photos of little league and AAA teams, clippings from the newspaper. It's a room that's been lived in; it's warm and home. Something Mike never had growing up. 

"Okay," she says, setting her backpack at the edge of the bed and moving towards him for her rolling bag. "Get it out of your system. You've seen it. It's real. Feel free to gloat."

Mike shrugs. "I already knew I was your favorite player, you told me the first day we met. This is just proof of that."

"Are you feeling okay?" she asks walking towards him. "You're passing up an opportunity to make fun of me, old man? Really?"

"Oh no," he laughs, "I'm just holding out. Letting you gain a false sense of security first."

"Such a jerk."

Mike smiles as she turns and wheels her bag to the closet on the opposite side of the room. "Have anything you want to hang?" she asks. 

"No, I'm good." He watches her for a moment before turning back to stare at his image—at 25 year old Mike—in his second season as a Padre. The poster is worn: the color is starting to fade; the edges tattered from being taped over and over again. Yet, there's something so humbling about it he doesn't quite know how to feel. 

"I like to sleep on the left side of the bed," he says in lieu of anything else. 

"Whatever," she shrugs. "I usually sleep catty-corner, so good luck having a side."

"Maybe the couch wouldn't be so bad after all."

\-----

Dinner is a quiet, pleasant affair. Mike finds out that Christmas dinner involves extended family and relatives all coming to the house, so he insists on helping out any way he can. 

"You're already her favorite," Ginny leans over to whisper when Janet leaves the table to get some homemade rolls. "Now you're just sucking up."

"I'm not. You know some people like to help out and learn instead of sitting around or potentially causing a kitchen fire."

"Only that once, Mike. And you left me unsupervised, so it's really your fault."

"Do you two do this all the time?" Janet inquires as she comes back into the room with a plate of fresh, warm rolls. 

"Do what mom?" Ginny asks as she reaches for a couple before Janet fully sets the plate down. She tosses a roll onto Mike's plate and reaches for the butter. 

Janet lifts an eyebrow but shakes her head. "Nothing. You two get settled?"

Ginny nods around a mouthful of roll and Mike laughs at her enthusiasm. "We did, Janet. Thank you." 

Mike helps clear the table once he finishes demolishing another roll and watches Ginny eat another two. He would be jealous of her metabolism, but it's not a secret she works damn hard. 

He and Ginny load the dishwasher side-by-side and clean up the kitchen with relative ease. Once the counter space is clear, Janet takes out two bowls of cookie dough and two cookie sheets. 

"I think we can handle doing this," Mike remarks. "It's already made dough, rookie, think you can handle scooping it onto a cookie sheet?"

She hip checks him and nods. "Let's go, old man."

Janet agrees and decides to make hot chocolate while Ginny and Mike work together. Mike takes on the task of arranging the oatmeal raisin cookies while Ginny slanders his choice. 

"Even your favorite cookie is an old man thing to choose," she says as she plops a too big circle of chocolate chip dough onto the parchment-lined sheet. 

"Whatever, Baker. My cookie choice is impeccable, and if you keep making your cookies so big, they'll never get done. Here," he says as he reaches across her and picks up a ball of dough. He splits it in half and spreads it out better than she'd originally done. 

"I was doing okay on my own," she pouts. 

"You were going to end up with too crispy cookies on the outside and dough in the middle, rookie. Why don't you help your mom instead?"

"No, no," Janet begins, "too much of a risk of fire over here. Keep helping Mike."

"Nice mom. Stop laughing, Mike!" Ginny says and pokes Mike in the side.

"How'd you end up knowing your way around a kitchen, Mike? Did you help out your parents a lot?" Janet asks.

Mike shakes his head and takes the spoon from Ginny's hand, showing her the correct portion size. "Nah, my mom wasn't great in the kitchen, could practically burn anything, so I just sort of learned cause I had to if I wanted to eat."

The stillness that meets his words stings. He doesn't want their pity or anything akin to it. He doesn't quite know what leads him to be so forthcoming, but when he feels Ginny's arm against him, he doesn't really care.

"You just became my mother's favorite person, by the way," Ginny says disrupting the weight of the moment. She tosses him a smile and takes a completed tray of cookies to the oven. "She couldn't compel me or Will to do anything remotely related to food prep. She's really going to put you to work while you're here, Lawson."

Mike's so grateful for her in that moment, and it takes everything in him not to pull her close and kiss her. 

\-----

"This couch is a nightmare," Mike grouses as he tries to get comfortable and not spill his mug of hot chocolate.

Janet shoos them out of the kitchen in order to do some prep for Christmas dinner even after Mike insists. "You're a guest, go relax. Make Ginny show you the house."

So Mike makes Ginny give him the three-penny tour, listens to her stories about her father, about growing up in North Carolina, about not having many friends. 

They wind up on the couch in front of the unlit fireplace, mugs in hand listening to the tinkering sounds from the kitchen. It’s chilly in Tarboro, but not quite enough to sit in front of a roaring fire, though Mike assumes it’ll happen at some point during the trip.

The fragrant and tall Christmas tree in the corner is lit with blue and white lights. There are tiny, personalized ornaments that Mike really wants to examine better. The tree is so unlike anything Mike had growing up, and it makes him consider all the Christmases past in the Baker home. 

“I told you,” Ginny says as she tucks her feet beneath her. “This thing is awful, but mom holds on to it, so…”

“Why?”

“It’s apparently the first piece of furniture she and my dad bought together when they married.” Ginny’s fingers worry at the fraying fabric on the edge of a cushion. “My parents’ marriage was…interesting and my mom…I think she keeps it around as a reminder of what they had.”

“Hmm,” Mike hums wanting to point out that Ginny and her brother are that reminder, but maybe they aren’t. 

“Thank you,” Ginny says with a smile. She grabs a chocolate chip cookie from the plate between them and raises it towards him. "It's just easier being home with you here."

Mike nods and grabs a cookie from the plate before he follows through with the urge to kiss her that never seems to dissipate. "You don't have to thank me. I'm happy to be here. This is already a better Christmas than I've had in a while."

"Can I say something that's inevitably going to make you say something ridiculous back to me?"

"With that kind of lead in, Baker, how could I say no?"

She huffs out a laugh. "I didn't have a lot of friends growing up. I didn't really have any, to he honest. My dad had me so focused on baseball and succeeding and being a perfectionist that I missed out on a lot." She turns to face him fully and shrugs.  "All of that is to say that—I'm really happy you're in my life. You're my best friend. And getting to talk to you is always the best part of my day."

Mike's mouth drops open and his heart stutters. He needs to tell her. This instant that he feels the same, and so much more. "I—you're the best part of my days, too, Ginny."

Her eyes go wide and she gives him a hundred watt smile and laughs lightly. "Ginny? Wow, I can't believe you didn't give some jerky response."

He shakes his head. "Not this time." He sets his cookie down, and reaches over to place a hand over hers. He needs to tell her. "Gin, I—"

The front door bangs open and startles them apart as Will Baker struggles through it. 

"Will!" Ginny exclaims and hops up from the couch. 

\-----

It's an hour of listening to Will and his stories, and watching the siblings bicker lovingly before Ginny and Mike make their way to bed. 

He's nervous, especially after what Ginny said earlier—after what he wanted to confess earlier—but he's out of options. 

He changes into sweatpants and an old, soft Padres tee while Ginny's in the bathroom, and crawls into the surprisingly comfortable queen bed. 

He drifts off to sleep and wakes with a jolt when she settles in beside him. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."

"'S'okay, Baker," he responds with a deep sigh. He feels her shift beside him and turns his head to see her propped on her side facing him, her hands tucked beneath her head. 

In the low light he can make out the edge of a tank top and the slope of her shoulder. She looks so at peace, and her riot of curls is wild around her face. 

"Are you going to end up being a sloth on a tree again?" she asks. 

Mike frowns. "What?"

"Your tendency to spontaneously cuddle. Or is that only for couches and not for beds?"

Mike grunts and turns to face the ceiling. His eyes slide shut and a small smile graces his face. "I guess we'll have to wait and see, rook."

\--

A few things come into Mike's awareness in the state between asleep and fully awake.

His left arm tingles and is heavy. He's quite warm, but it isn't terribly unpleasant. There's a leg thrown over his waist, and something that smells sweet and spicy tickles his nose. 

When his eyes drift open and awareness floods back into him, he tries to remain as still as possible. He doesn't want to disturb Ginny who has one hand on his chest, the other curled near his head. 

The sheets and duvet are down around the foot of the bed. He brings his free hand up to the side of her face and pushes her hair behind her ear. He glides the hand down her neck and rests it in the middle of her back. 

She shifts and her flannel clad leg drifts down a little from his waist. 

He needs to move, but doesn't want to; however, if Ginny shifts her leg anymore, she'll brush against his growing length and there'll be no way to explain that away.

"Baker," he whispers in a rough voice. He puts a bit more pressure on the hand in the middle of her back. "Baker, it's time to get up. I need to move."

She nuzzles her face deeper into his chest. "Mike."

"Yeah, rook?" He brings his hand up to her shoulder and squeezes. "Wake up, Ginny."

He feels her breath still against him as she raises her head. She looks...dumbfounded is the only word that comes to Mike's mind. That and adorable. 

"I'm going to start taking it personally if you keep looking at me like you've forgotten I'm here when you wake up, Baker."

She gives him a tight smile and slowly disentangles her body from his. "Sorry," she murmurs as she rolls onto her back beside him. "I've never been a clingy sleeper before. I guess it's ‘cause you're like a furnace."

"It's not a problem." Mike sits up with a groan and swings his legs over the edge of the bed. He looks over his shoulder—Ginny's tank top rests in the middle of her stomach and her sleep pants have slipped past her hip bones. 

He needs to get out of bed. 

"What's the plan for today?" he asks her as he stands and walks to his suitcase, making sure to keep his back towards her. 

She groans and Mike looks back again to see her resting on her stomach, her face completely in Mike's pillow. 

Mike chuckles and shakes his head. "It's not even early in comparison to when you usually get up in the morning."

"We're on vacation," she grumbles. 

"Okay," Mike capitulates. "You sleep, I'm going to go eat breakfast."

\-----

Mike finds Janet in the kitchen when he arrives there, a pan of biscuits in hand. 

"Morning, Mike," she greets him with a smile. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you," he returns. 

"There's coffee in the cupboard there if you'd like to make some, and these biscuits should be done in about fifteen minutes."

"Thank you, Janet," Mike says as he moves over to fix a pot of coffee. 

"Do you want me to fix you some eggs? Bacon?"

Mike smiles. "You really don't have to."

"It's not a problem, I promise. I never have anyone here to cook for so I rarely bother for myself. Cheese in your eggs?"

"That'd be great."

The sounds of percolating coffee and the gas stove roaring to life are the only sounds that fill the space for a few moments. 

Mike pulls down two coffee mugs. He turns over his shoulder to ask, "You want any coffee, Janet?"

"No, I'm fine, thanks."

He nods and turns back to the two cups, filling the first with a bit of sugar, and the second with two full teaspoons. He walks to the fridge and finds creamer, only adding it to one cup for the moment. 

He pours his mug of coffee and leans against the counter as he sips it. 

"So," Janet starts, "you and Ginny seem closer than you were when I visited a few months back."

Mike's shoulders tense. "Yeah. We've gotten closer."

"I'm not judging you, Mike. I can tell you care about her, a lot. Maybe more than either of you are prepared to admit at the moment, but I see it."

Mike nods, but doesn't really know what else to say. 

"My late husband and I were twelve years apart in age, and there were some struggles with it, but it never made a bit of difference to me. I imagine, however, with the whole world watching Ginny, and you two being teammates that things are bit more complicated for you. But, and I don't say this lightly, Mike—life can change in an instant, and waiting around for perfect moments just leads to regret."

Mike turns away from Janet's direct gaze. "I know how I feel, but the choice will ultimately be Ginny's. I won't be the one to mess up any of this up for her."

"Love is a lot of sacrifice at times."

Mike grunts, "yeah."

They hear her before they see her, her footfalls heavy on the stairs. She hasn't changed out of her pajamas yet; she looks rumpled and bleary eyed and utterly unkempt. 

Mike ignores the sharp bite of desire that settles low in his belly and turns to pour her a cup of coffee, fixing it with just the right amount of cream. 

She takes the cup and murmurs her thanks before turning and saying good morning to her mother. 

"The smell of bacon wake you up?" Mike asks. 

She scowls at him and shakes her head as she sits down at the kitchen table. "Nope. The coffee. I knew you had to be making it. Will's not up yet, and mom doesn't like coffee in the morning."

"See? I knew there was something you liked about me," Mike teases to move his mind away from _possibilities_.

\-----

"This seems like a trip for you and your brother. I don't want to intrude."

"You really want to be stuck in the house with my mom?"

"Your mom likes me."

"Let me rephrase that: I don't want you stuck in the house with my mom. Because you'll ask her questions, and she'll tell you stories about me, and I need to be there to monitor the things she tells you."

Mike laughs and leans back against her bed. "I promise to do my best to refrain from asking, but going to visit your father's grave seems like a family thing."

Ginny lets out a long sigh and sits beside him at the edge of the bed. "I know. It's...I haven't been since he died. Will and I had very different relationships with our dad. He practically ignored Will and focused every ounce of his obsession with baseball on me. I would...it would mean a lot to me if you're there, too."

So Mike rides along with the siblings, mindful to listen more than he speaks. 

He can't say with any assurance that he's ever had an occasion to visit a loved one in a cemetery. His mom kept so much from him while also exposing him to a world he didn't need to know about. 

He hangs back while Ginny and Will move through the gravestones towards their father's marker. She looks over her shoulder a few times at him and smiles, her gratefulness so apparent. 

They don't stay long. Ginny and Will place a little wreath of flowers beneath the 'Loving Husband and Father' carved into the granite. 

Ginny steps away first and makes her way over to Mike, throwing her arms around his midsection without warning. Mike doesn't hesitate, simply wraps his arms around her and holds on tight. 

\-----

"So you and my sister?"

Mike looks up from his spot against the couch. He gets kicked out of Ginny's room when she and her mother commandeer it to wrap Christmas gifts. He doesn't mind, decides to attempt to wrap Ginny's gifts as he sits in front of the Christmas tree. 

Mike frowns up at the younger man. "What about your sister and I?"

Will crosses his arms and looks down at Mike. "You came home with her. You're staying in her room. You two are awfully cozy with one another. So?"

Mike grits his teeth. He doesn't want to be antagonistic with Ginny's brother—Mike knows Will means a lot to her—but his tone bothers Mike. 

"Your sister is one of my best friends."

"She doesn't date ballplayers," Will states. 

"Yeah."

"And yet, here you are."

"We're not dating."

"If you asked any random person on the street what the definition of dating is, you and G fall into every one of those categories."

 _Not every one_ , Mike refrains from saying aloud.

"Listen, G can take care of herself. Has always been able to. I followed her to Texas because I didn't want her to be alone, not because she couldn't manage on her own. I don't know you well, and what I know I don't like, but it's her life not mine. Just don't hurt her. She may seem tough, but she's really tender hearted. Our dad wasn't completely successful in making that disappear."

Will stops speaking as his mother and Ginny's voices ring out from the top of the stairs. Both women's arms are full of packages, and Mike lumbers off the floor to take some from Ginny while Will helps his mother.  

"Want to open a gift tonight?" Janet asks. 

"No," Ginny says and she motions toward Mike. "Christmas morning. Otherwise Crash here will be extra grumpy."

\-----

"Wake up," Ginny whispers in Mike's ear. 

His eyes snap open with a start. Her face is so close to his and she's grinning broadly.

"Merry Christmas."

He grins. "Merry Christmas. What time is it?" he asks with a groan. 

"Early," she says with glee. "But it's time for presents!" She folds her arms over his chest and rests her head on them. "I also wanted to try and surprise my mom with breakfast, which means you'll actually be doing the cooking."

Mike laughs. "You mean a visit from the fire department isn't your ideal Christmas—ow!" Mike exclaims when she pinches his side. 

She runs quick fingers over his beard and tugs before she climbs out of bed. She holds out a hand and he takes it, lets her help him off the too comfortable mattress. 

Ginny finds the waffle iron and declares Christmas morning waffles it will be. Mike gets assigned the task of mixing the batter while Ginny attempts to follow hiss instructions to put the bacon in the oven. 

Janet and Will join them a little while later. Will gets to work and cuts strawberries while Ginny gathers the syrup, butter, Nutella, and powdered sugar from the cupboard. 

"This is a real treat," Janet says with a smile as Mike sets a mug of tea in front of her. "My kids are home, and I’m getting served breakfast. I can't believe the two of you are willingly in the kitchen right now."

"Hey," Will interjects. He sets the bowl of strawberries on the table and kisses his mom on the cheek. "I'm not as totally helpless in the kitchen as G is."

"Whatever, Will," she replies. She sidles up to Mike and holds out a plate for the freshly finished waffle. She smiles at him and takes the plate over to her mother. 

Mike pours more batter, and moves to the oven to take the bacon out. 

He lets Ginny plate the bacon. She sets it in the middle of table then walks back to stand next to Mike at the waffle iron. 

Her shoulder brushes his arm every once in a while and he can feel the happiness radiating off of her. He turns and smiles at her. 

"Anxious, rook?"

She shakes her head. "Ready for presents."

Ginny and Will rush through their breakfast and grapple over getting out of the kitchen first to the Christmas tree. 

"Leave the dishes!" Ginny calls over her shoulder. "I'll load the dishwasher after gifts, come on Mike!"

Mike grabs his coffee cup and hers, refilling them before joining her and Will in the living room. Janet joins a few moments later with a plate of leftover cookies. 

Will and Ginny exchange gifts first, neither of them able to wait any longer. 

Delight breaks over Mike's face as he takes in Ginny's reactions, and the teasing that happens between the siblings. 

A rectangular package drops into his lap and he looks over to see Janet smile at him. "Just a little something."

"Oh," Mike replies dumbly. He didn't expect anything from her, even though he had Ginny help him pick out something for her mother. He sets his coffee down and turns the package over. 

"Just rip into, old man, geez," Ginny calls out. She's decked out in a hat and scarf her mom bought for her beaming at him over her cup of coffee. 

He ignores her and takes his time, mostly because she's muttering at him. He gets the box unwrapped and moves the tissue paper out of the way to reveal a navy, cashmere sweater.

"If it doesn't fit, or you don't like it, the receipt's in the box."

"It's perfect," Mike says honestly, and one of the nicest gifts he's received from someone not related to him or married to him in a very long time. 

Ginny walks over to him with two packages in hand, her bottom lip caught in her teeth. "From me old man."

He takes the packages and points to a spot on the other side of the tree. "You've got two back there, rookie. Don't shake them!" he laughs as she takes off to get to them. 

Mike stares down at the impeccably wrapped box and notes it's probably Janet who did it. He opens the smaller of the two with the same kind of care as the other package. The word Omega greets him, and he wants to snap at her for spending too much money when he catches her gasp across the room. 

"Mike, I can't believe you'd spend—"

"You really don't want to go there," he responds as he levels a look at her. 

She huffs at him before staring down at the red and gold box in her hand, and the delicate necklace with two interlocked simple gold bands. "Thank you," she says then points to the unopened watch box in this hand. "I hope you like it, I know you don't wear a lot of watches, but this one is called Skywalker, and since you're such a Star Wars nerd..."

She trails off and he laughs, opening the Omega box. It's an exquisite watch, something he would never buy himself, but would admire. 

"Turn it over," she instructs. 

He hears her tearing into the paper of his other gift to her while he takes the watch from the case and turns it over. 

 _With love, your rookie_. 

Mike stares at the inscription. His mind races and his heart beats wildly in his chest. 

He's thrown off balance when a pair of arms wrap around his neck. Ginny's practically in his lap, her face wet against the side of his. He pulls back to look at her, and she's beaming at him. "How'd you get it?" she exclaims and perches on the couch beside him. 

"What?"

She laughs. "My rookie card and the baseball from my second start. How'd you get them?"

Through a lot of networking, a bit of coercion, and a call to Eliot, Mike manages to get a hold of someone to print the mock up of Ginny's rookie card that Amelia has in the works. Technically it's official MLB property, but Mike finagles his way into getting his hands on it and getting it placed in a glass box along with the game ball from her second start. 

Mike smirks at her. "You can't know all my secrets." 

He turns his watch over and puts it around his wrist. Ginny's fingers are there to help secure it, and their eyes meet once it's fastened on his wrist. 

"Open your other gift. And don't think I'm going to quit asking about how you did that."

"I wouldn't dare, Baker." Impatient now, he rips into the other small square package. 

It's a framed photo of the two of them from behind, in uniform. Mike's laughing and Ginny's got a 1000-watt smile on her face. He doesn't remember when this photo was taken or what they were talking about, but he loves it. 

"Thank you, Ginny," he whispers and sees her eyes wet a little. She hugs him again and whispers in his ear. 

"Merry Christmas, Mike."

_END PART SIX_


	7. Of Chrysanthemums

"Okay, we are officially at Defcon five."

Mike quits stirring the gravy and narrows his eyes at Evelyn. "Do you mean Defcon one? One is the most severe—"

"Whatever," Evelyn interrupts. "You know what I mean. One, five, the situation is now dire and you've got to do something, Mike. Otherwise you're going to blurt it out and it's going to seem like an afterthought."

Mike looks over at Blip who's sitting across the counter, beer in hand. "You're the one who recruited my tenacious wife, man. Don't look at me."

Mike turns back to the stove with a shake of his head. He lowers the heat on the gravy and puts a lid on the pot.

He turns to Evelyn with a shrug. "I've already told you, Evy, I'm not going to—"

"I know, I know," she interrupts him again. "Her decision. Yes, we agreed, but Mike—she gave you a huge hint over Christmas and you didn't follow through. And, I don't know if you realize this, but you two are already dating. Seriously."

"What?" he asks, absolutely confused.

"The watch. The inscription. Oh yes, she told me all about it. Asked if it was too much. I told her it was perfect. You're welcome. But also, you two do everything together. You have movie nights and go out to restaurants and show up to parties together and leave together. You're dating."

Mike looks down at the stellar timepiece. _With love, your rookie_ , rests against his skin and there's something so heady, so incredible about it that can't be put into words.

Mike's eyes drift to the Sanders' backyard where Ginny runs around with Marcus and Gabe, the three of them engaged in some kind of ridiculous game of tag. Her hair is piled on her head and her laughter rings out even through the closed door. She looks young and carefree and so damn beautiful it makes Mike ache.

Fingers snap in front of his face and he looks down at an annoyed Evelyn. "Day dream about her later. You need a new plan since you didn't follow my other one."

"Her mom and her brother were with us the whole time we opened presents," he replies. "I wasn't going to blurt out 'I love you' for the first time in front her family. That's not fair."

Evelyn sighs. "I suppose. Which is why you should've exchanged gifts the night before."

"Leave the man alone, baby," Blip moans as he gets up to fetch another beer. He comes over to Evy and kisses her cheek, reaching for her wine glass to refill it. "This is a big deal, one I'm not entirely sure is a great idea. But," he says, lifting a hand to stop Mike and Evelyn's indignant responses. "I want to see you both happy. And yeah, it's gonna be tough, but I'll always have your back, man."

Mike nods and starts to speak when the sliding glass door opens with a bang.

"Dad! Mom!" Gabe yells out. "Aunt Ginny got hurt."

Mike turns in a hurry to see a laughing Ginny walk through the door, a nasty gash on her left elbow. "You narc," Ginny quips. "You weren't supposed to say anything."

Ginny tugs on Gabe's ear before he runs off after his brother. Evelyn yells to tell them both to slow down in the house.

"What'd you do, rookie?" Mike asks, walking over to her. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. Gabe's announcement makes his pulse race more than he cares to admit.

She shrugs. "I fell over Marcus," she says with a smirk. "Not a big deal. Ev, you still have band aids and stuff in the guest bathroom?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Okay, thanks."

"I'll help you," Mike offers. She tilts her head and laughs.

"Thanks, but it's not that serious, Mike."

"That's kind of an awkward place to bandage on your own."

"That's why there are mirrors."

"Would you just graciously accept the offered help, Baker? Geez."

She huffs out a mild agreement, her unoccupied hand skates around her collarbone, a finger brushing over the joined golden circles of her necklace.

"You'll worry it away," he says gently as he swipes at her hand.

She bites her lip. "I’m afraid of losing it," she says as she shifts from side to side. "It's the nicest thing anyone's ever given me. I'd be devastated if something happened to it."

He walks around her and brings his fingers up to the clasp at her neck. It's secure, but he lets his fingers linger just a few more moments, until he feels her softly exhale.

"It looks fine to me. Don't worry so much, Baker."

She turns over her shoulder and smiles at him. It's sweet and rich and god, he really wants to fucking kiss her and —

 "Dinner's almost ready," Blip says and it's like a pin stuck in a balloon. "You gonna bandage that or what?"

"Right," Mike replies and sets a hand on the small of her back, leading her down the hall. He turns and glares at Blip, and ignores Evelyn's hand gestures that he's pretty sure mean kissing.

When they reach the bathroom, Mike taps the counter with his hand and Ginny glides onto the marble surface with ease.

Mike opens the medicine cabinet and takes down a box of band aids, hydrogen peroxide, and some Neosporin. It's a nice size gash, but nothing extensive by any means.

He moves to stand between her spread legs, lifting her elbow a little higher to see the cut. He murmurs as he wets a cotton ball with a bit of peroxide and cleans the cut with slow, gentle downstrokes.

Ginny shivers and Mike's eyes drift up to hers. "You okay?" he asks quietly.

Her eyes are wide and roaming over his face like she's searching for something. She nods slowly and bites her bottom lip. "Yeah."

"Okay," he replies. He furrows his brow and stares for a beat before he turns back to the task at hand.

"I didn't take you for clumsy, Baker," he teases as he continues his gentle ministrations.

She huffs and nudges his leg with her foot. "Yeah, yeah. Yuck it up, old man. It could've happened to you, but you'd probably have broken a hip."

"Jerk," he returns without heat.

Once the wound is clean to his satisfaction, he leans over and blows a steady stream of air on it. He puts a tiny amount of Neosporin on the tip of his pointer finger and gently spreads it across the clean gash. He noisily fiddles with the paper of the bandage as he open it up.

He leans back and places the band aid with care. "There," he says and meets her gaze again. When he does this time, his stomach clenches and he almost has to grip the edge of the counter to stay standing.

She's looking at him with such an unguarded expression that even he can't miss it. It's a look that's gratefulness and desire and hope all rolled into one and it tingles right down to the base of his spine.

"Gin," he whispers and takes a step closer.

He sees her swallow, and tracks the movement of her eyes to his lips and back up again.

Her fingers reach for the edge of his shirt. "Mike."

There's yelling from outside of the bathroom, a tumble of feet, and Blip calling their names. And even though all of that is happening, neither of them pull away from the moment with any speed. They linger on one another as Ginny hops off the counter, pressed too close to him to be accidental or casual. A promise held in her gaze.

Dinner, conversely, is a weird affair.

Ginny acts just as she always does towards Mike, nothing markedly different in her approach at all and it frustrates him. Though, he realizes, maybe she's been showing him for a while.

She touches him, little things here and there, but after that moment, it feels so much bigger than before.

When she places a hand on his forearm, he can feel her fingers at the edge of his shirt; when she reaches across his plate for a dinner roll, and her thigh meets his, he swears it feels just like it did when she hopped off the counter and stood before him.

He ignores Evelyn's less than subtle attempts to find out more and digs into his meal with more gusto than absolutely necessary, choosing to focus on the sound of Ginny's voice teasing the twins and the near constant drifting of her hand to her necklace.

"We're going shopping for New Year's Eve outfits tomorrow," Evelyn begins with a pointed look at Ginny. "I'm telling you this now so you can prepare and there can be infinitely less whining than the last time we shopped together. I will leave you at the store for real this time."

Ginny huffs a sigh and Mike starts when she nudges him with her shoulder. "Save me?" she asks with a pout.

He laughs and shakes his head. "Yeah, I don't have a death wish."

"Mhmm," Blip agrees and reaches over to clink beer bottles with Mike.

Evelyn rolls her eyes and launches into what her plans for the day are. Mike lets himself check out and ponder the New Year's Eve party they're all attending.

Padres ownership and management throw an extravagant affair every year with the help of the WAGs and this year's party is happening at the top some swanky hotel on the beach.

Slim fingers wrap around Mike's wrist, just below the strap of his watch and he turns towards Ginny with a smile. Whatever she wants, however she wants to play it, Mike decides in that moment is enough for him. He can wait.

"So are you two going together?" Evelyn asks and Mike narrows his eyes at her. She smiles innocently back at him.

Ginny shrugs. "I figured we would," she says and there's something in her tone that makes his heart ache in the best way. "Who else is going to make sure you stay awake until midnight? You can't even stay awake until 10."

"No, Baker," he starts as he turns his hand over in her grip. Her fingers skate down his forearm then back up to his wrist. "You made me watch the worst movie on the planet. Of course I fell asleep. I can stay awake until midnight."

"Notting Hill is a lovely movie."

Mike rolls his eyes. Her fingers brush beneath of the band of his watch and he wonders if she can feel his pulse race. "Notting Hill is the worst. And Hugh Grant is an idiot for most of the film. Who cares if she's famous. Deal with it."

Ginny narrows her eyes at him and shakes her head. She's got two fingers beneath the band of his watch now. It's a little uncomfortable, but the hot press of her fingertips over his pulse is such an incredible feeling. He doesn't want it to end.

"Dessert?" Blip blurts out. Mike shifts his attention from Ginny towards the couple at the end of the table. Evelyn practically vibrates in her seat with manic glee as Blip manages to pull her away to the kitchen.

He hates the bereft feeling that courses through him when Ginny pulls away her fingers, but it ebbs when she places her whole hand on his forearm.

Her hand is rough and warm with long, lithe brown fingers that he knows are sturdy and strong. She rubs her thumb back and forth over the corded muscle of his arm.

Mike doesn't know what to say or how really to address what's happening, but he knows he wants it to continue.

He scoots his chair closer to hers and her hand drifts up his arm, drawing patterns with her fingertips in the crook of his elbow. Then they journey up his bicep, a ripple of goosebumps flourish in the wake of her fingers. He feels like a teenager with a crush all over again.

A piece of caramel cake is placed before them both and Mike swears he hears a mixture of sigh and squeak from Evelyn.

She and Blip return a couple minutes later with their own plates and quart of Talenti.

Evelyn slides the quart across the table and Mike catches it with his free hand. She meets his eye and mouths the word 'dating.'

\----- 

"If you look at your phone again, I'm going to chuck it out of the window, man."

Mike looks up at Blip across the pool table. He slides his phone into his back pocket and nods. "Sorry."

"You're worse than I was when Evelyn and I first started dating. And Evy wasn't serious, she's not going to leave Ginny in the store. Maybe."

"We're not dating," Mike says weakly, and Blip ignores it.

A look back at all their interactions, all the time they spend together, all the intimate details of their lives shared with one another leads Mike to the same conclusion everyone else has apparently picked up on—he and Ginny are a couple in the truest sense of the word.

Just without any real formal label or discussion of the fact or kissing. Definitely hasn't been any kissing, he'd remember that.

Mike sighs and walks around the table to get a better view of his shot. He lines up his pool stick and calls twelve to the corner pocket. He sinks it with no trouble and moves to a different angle. He misses the next shot, but just barely.

"I don't want to screw this up," Mike says as he steps back from the table. "I don't...maybe I'm destined to screw this up and should've just left well enough alone."

Blip scoffs. "I think you're too far along the road to turn back now. Yeah, things went south with Rachel. Both of you had issues that made itnot work, but don't go into this thinking it's going to be easy. Especially for her, so if you're not sure or you think maybe you'll change your mind down the line—"

"That's not going to happen," Mike interrupts brusquely.

Blip holds up a hand in appeasement. "All I'm saying is you owe it to her and to yourself to be sure. Because this thing, you're going to have to weather together, or it won't work. Even if you don't tell anyone else but me and Ev, keeping secrets takes its toll, too."

Mike leans against the pool table and gives Blip a terse nod. He knows this, he knows it all, and yet, thinking of staying away from Ginny—unless that's what she wants—is a devastating series of thoughts.

"Beer?" Mike asks.

"Maybe something stronger?" Blip returns. "Just not too strong. Ev won't be happy with me if we get wasted in the middle of the day."

 -----

Mike barely waits for the car to come to a full stop before he opens the door.

Management insists that players and their dates take a car service to and from the party to minimize the probability of any questionable driving under the influence, which is just fine with Mike.

He straightens his jacket and hurries towards her door to ring the bell. He's half anxious, half excited—a strange sort of giddiness courses through him in way it never has before.

He fidgets on her front step, shifting his weight from side to side as he hears steps approaching the door.

When the door finally swings open, Mike’s heart stops for a long moment.

“Hey,” she says with a smile and in a tone so casual, as if she hasn't completely disrupted his entire being.

She's in a pair of sleek, black leather pants that fit her like a glove, a black top with just a hint of sparkle that's low cut enough to see the curve of her pert breasts. A little black jacket with the oddest cutouts Mike’s ever seen—but somehow utterly works—completes the look.

Her hair is straight, and he's not sure he likes it, but she looks so like herself and also like a siren called from the deep to ensnare him.

Her lips are a dusty pink and glossy, and her cheeks hold a hint of color.

She looks stunning.

“Wow,” Mike barely manages as he runs his eyes down her body. “You look...incredible.”

She smiles and turns to lock the door. She turns back and slides her arm through his as they carefully take the stairs. “Thanks. You're looking good, too. Who knew you cleaned up so well, old man.” She squeezes his bicep and smirks at him. “Blue is a good color on you.”

He looks down at the navy suit Evelyn convinced him to wear and makes a note to himself to send her a nice arrangement of flowers. “Thanks, Baker.”

She's almost taller than he is in heels he recognizes as a pair of her favorite boots. He asks her about them after he slides into the car beside her.

“Ev tried to get me to wear some sky high heels, but I actually want to have a good time and not saw my feet off tonight. By the way,” she begins and turns to face him in the backseat. “I hope you're prepared to dance tonight.”

Mike shakes his head. “Probably not going to happen.”

“Killjoy. It's New Year’s Eve, Mike! Give in a little.” She brings a finger up to her necklace, one it seems she's never without now, and gives him a smile that steals his breath away.

It's going to be a long night.

\------ 

Mike keeps an eye on her while he waits at the bar for their drinks. She's standing toe to toe with Evelyn who's gesticulating wildly, and speaking far too fast for Mike to be able to read from across the room.

“Don't try to figure it out,” Blip says from beside him. “She sent me away to get drinks. I'm pretty sure they're talking about you.”

Mike hands over a few bills to the bartender and says thanks as he takes two beers in hand. “Yeah, I don't doubt that.”

“What'd you do?”

“I didn't do anything.”

“Hmm, yeah, makes sense why she seems frustrated now.”

“Is there a way for Evelyn not to be involved in this?”

“After you explicitly asked for her help?”

“Okay, fair point,” Mike concedes.

He feels a hand at his elbow before Ginny’s arm reaches across him and plucks a beer from his grasp.

“Thanks,” she says as she leans against his arm.

He turns to make a snarky remark, but pauses as he feels her trembling against him. He narrows his eyes and takes in her heightened breathing pattern.

He grabs his beer and turns to Blip and Evelyn, who’s now beside him. “It's a little cramped in here for my taste. I'm gonna get some air. Join me rook?”

She nods and gives him a grateful smile. He places a hand at the small of her back and moves them both quickly through the crowd.

They climb a slim set of stairs to the mostly empty rooftop patio. The bite in the air makes them both shiver, but Ginny’s shoulders immediately relax when they make it to a quiet spot that overlooks the water. He grabs her beer and sets it aside with his own.

“Breathe in on five counts, and out on five counts,” Mike instructs. He keeps his hand at the small of her back and watches as her breathing gets back to normal after a few minutes.

“Sorry,” she mumbles and leans her head against his shoulder. “I just got overwhelmed for a moment, and—”

“You don't need to explain or apologize, I promise. You feeling better? Need something to eat?”

She shakes her head and wraps an arm around his waist. “Just need a minute. I'd much prefer a night of sitting with you and watching a movie to this crazy mess of people downstairs.”

A rumbling laugh echoes through Mike’s chest. “I would, too, rookie, but you know Evelyn would kill us.”

“Think we can dip out before midnight?” she asks as she turns into him.

She brings her arms up to wrap around his neck; her fingers tease through the hair at the base of his neck.

And he can barely breathe.

She opens her mouth, then closes it, then tries again.

“Ginny,” Mike says in a low voice. “Remember that favor you owe me?”

She scrunches up her face and shakes her head. “What?”

“I told you, after you showed me that enormous poster of me on your wall, that you'd owe me a favor for keeping your secret.”

Ginny laughs and roll her eyes. “Okay, and is this that moment?”

“Yeah, this is that moment.” Mike nods and brings his arms around her back, pulling her closer to him. “I want to you know what you want, Gin. I...just need to know. Tell me, please?”

Ginny’s arms tighten around his neck, and she drops her forehead against his. Mike closes his eyes and waits.

He feels her breath against his lips just before her her warm, smooth lips descend onto his. It's not frantic, or manic; there's no drag of tongues or nips of teeth—and yet Mike's heart races in his chest.

The rush of feeling that courses through his fingers and toes rivals Mike's first time at bat in the majors. Blood rushes through his ears as she presses closer to him, and his stomach tightens in anticipation.

When Ginny's mouth opens against his, and her tongue nips out to lick his top lip, the kiss goes up in flames.

He slants his mouth and presses his tongue against hers and moans. He moves his hands to the side of her face, brushing his thumbs over her high, smooth cheekbones as he nips and licks her lips in turn.

Mike doesn't know how long they stay there, taking and giving, their bodies pressed tightly to one another.

They pull away from the kiss is small measures, but stay close to one another, brushing noses and touching their foreheads together.

Mike sends his thumb back and forth across Ginny’s slick bottom lip. She puckers her lips and kisses the pad of his thumb, letting out a contented sigh.

She draws her head back, and looks up into his eyes, a shy smile on her face. She bites her bottom lip and pulls her fingers from his hair. She tugs gently at his beard and shrugs. “This isn't so bad after all.”

Mike huffs out a laugh and draws Ginny into a hug.

“I'm not great with words,” she begins with a whisper in his ear. She scratches her blunt nails down the side of his neck. “And I'm terrified of what could happen, but not enough to ignore this anymore.”

Mike nods. “I know. I'm terrified, too.”

“Good,” she says on a laugh. “And hey, now we don't have to worry about that New Year’s kiss.”

“You're less worried?” Mike asks. “Gin, now that I've actually kissed you, I don't know how I'm supposed to not want to do it all the time. And tonight actually gave me an excuse to do it.”

She lowers her lips to his for a brief kiss. She sighs and drops her hands, taking a step back and already Mike hates the distance.

“Well, let's go enjoy the party until midnight, old man, then we can leave and go watch movies like we should've in the first place.”

She slips her arm through his, and keeps a respectable enough distance, though her hip presses against his as they make their way back to the stairs.

Ginny pauses and reaches over to swipe her thumb across Mike's mouth. “You were making a statement with my lip gloss on.”

They return to the party, and if they draw more attention than usual, neither of them seems to mind. Ginny even manages to get Mike to dance with her for two slow songs.

Evelyn commandeers Ginny at one point to help the WAGs in passing out confetti poppers, kazoos, noise makers, and the like, as the ten minute mark to the New Year approaches.

Mike happily takes a confetti popper and a paper blowout from Ginny as she passes with a wink. Blip sidles up to Mike in a gold top hat with New Year’s emblazoned across the top, a kazoo in one hand, and a bourbon in the other.

“You actually manned up, huh?” Blip asks with a smile. “Good for you. Hell of a way to start the new year.”

“How'd you—”

“You're not hard to read, Mike. That manic grin you've been sporting since you and Ginny came back to the party is kind of a dead give away.”

Mike shakes his head. “It's not that. I mean, not really. I haven't told her how I feel yet, but at least I know the attraction isn't one-sided.”

Blip sighs. “You're exhausting.” He walks away from Mike towards the opposite side of the room.

A loud noise followed by paper hitting his cheek grabs his attention. Ginny is beside him again, a paper crown on her head, and rollout noisemaker between her teeth.

He gives her an exasperated look and she smiles back as she steps into his side. She leans close and whispers in his ear. “I'm going to want to kiss you at midnight, even more now than before. You were so right about that.”

“You'll find I'm right about so many things in this relationship, Baker.”

“Don't push your luck, Lawson,” she says. She squeezes his arm and rests her head on his shoulder as the countdown starts at thirty seconds.

“Have a New Year’s wish, Mike?” she asks when the countdown hits fifteen.

“No, I already got it.”

_END PART SEVEN_


	8. Of Morning Glory

In the days following the Padres’ New Year's party, Mike makes an adjustment to the hierarchy of things in his life: lazy days on the couch move down the list when replaced with lazy days on the couch with Ginny.

Watching a movie with her is vastly improved by watching a movie with her stretched over him, even when she falls asleep with his t-shirt clutched between her fingers.

Cooking is improved by being able to steal kisses between cutting up vegetables, or making out against the counter—even when that means having to call for takeout because of a burnt dish.

Life with Ginny as his...something significant, is a vast improvement on his life before they become this new version of something not yet defined, and yet in essence not all that different.

It even prompts Ginny to ask a question of him. “Were we already dating?”

Mike's eyebrows shoot up. He sets down the butcher’s knife he's using to chop a red onion for the guacamole and turns to her.

“I only ask,” she continues as she draws nearer to him. Her fingers tangle in the hem of his Henley, just above the edge of his favorite sweats. “Because nothing seems that different.”

“Really?” Mike asks before he swoops down to kiss her quick. “Nothing?”

She laughs against his mouth and pushes him away a little. “Yes, I know that's different, but I mean, everything else is…” She trails off and waves a hand around. “You're making dinner, we’re going to stay in and watch a movie, and I'll probably fall asleep against you—”

“Did you want to go out instead?” Mike asks, nervous all of a sudden.

“No,” she shakes her head and smiles. “That's not—I'm just wondering. This is wonderful, and you know it's easier to stay in than go out anyway, but it doesn't feel that different. That,” she holds a hand up to his lips to keep him from speaking. “That's not a complaint. That's not a bad thing. That's just me wondering why we didn't notice it sooner.”

He had, of course, and he should really tell her that, but he doesn't know if she's ready to tackle that conversation as of yet. So, he shrugs and turns back to chopping, moving on to the jalapeño.

“I suppose we couldn't see the forest for the trees,” he remarks simply.

She grabs his bicep and squeezes, ducking her head to meet his downcast eyes. “Mike...what aren't you saying?”

For someone who missed all kinds of signs before, she's certainly well-attuned to him now. Mike wants to say it, he wants to tell her he loves her, has loved her for so long, can rarely think of much else when she's around him, but the words get stuck.

He's not afraid, per se, but Ginny hasn't been living with these emotions for as long as he has. At least, he doesn't think she has.

They really should talk about things. Like, what they are and how they're going to navigate spring training in forty-one days.

But this thing between them is too new and Mike knows his tendency to say the wrong thing, or not say the right thing—so perhaps just kissing her until she forgets is the best course of action?

He sets the knife down and lifts her to sit on the marble countertop before his lips descend onto hers. She shivers and moves forward as his hands slide up her calves and settle behind her knees.

Her fingers tangle in his shirt and her right leg hooks around his hip. Maybe kissing wasn't the best idea because now he wants to push her back against the counter and kiss every inch of her taut brown skin.

He shivers when her blunt nails scrape across his lower stomach and yeah, he's got to back up before it goes any further.

“You're really good at that, old man,” Ginny breathes against his mouth when they pull away from one another.

\-----

“Mike, thanks for dropping by,” Oscar says in congenial tone.

“Like I had a choice,” Mike mutters. Getting a call from the front office the night before, with Ginny curled up against his side sleeping, made him think of the too many variables they had yet to talk about.

“Either way,” Oscar replies. “Thank you. Are you ready for spring training?”

Mike nods. “I am.”

“Good, because we’re just wanting to know where your head’s at. Livan isn't going to be starting, he's not ready, but we want to know if you have any inclination to go elsewhere.”

Mike leans back in his seat. The smile that breaks over his face is a far cry from friendly. “You thinking about sending me somewhere else?

“No,” Oscar states simply. “You have a no trade clause.”

“But you're still hoping you can trade me in for a younger model?”

“Mike, you're almost thirty-seven. You know your time is numbered and I know you want that ring before it's all said and done. I want it to be with the Padres, but maybe it's not. Or maybe you’ll be done with the game before you even reach that point. I'm just trying to get a feel for what you're thinking.”

Mike grips the armrests of the chair. He grits his teeth and expels a harsh breath. “Thanks for your concern. I'll let you know before spring training what I'm thinking and how I'm feeling.”

Mike leaves without a backwards glance and storms through the SD etched glass doors.

He avoids Ginny’s call as he drives home, a little too annoyed to talk to her or anyone at the moment.

He knew this was coming, but that certainly doesn't make the reality any easier. Maybe he's selfish for pursuing anything with Ginny, now especially because he doesn't know how to tell her this and if proximity accounts for more than half of what he feels for her.

He changes into workout gear and leaves his house as quickly as he came. He purposely leaves his phone behind, and goes back down to the training room at Petco.

His time in the gym is sloppy, and slow, and without the motivating factor of Ginny around, not very good. As he leaves, he catches sight of Al’s semi-open door.

He hobbles over, his knees mocking him with every step and raps quickly on the door.

“Mike!” Al exclaims with a familiar gruffness. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Mike smirks. “It's good to see you, too, skip.”

Al grunts and motions to the chair beside his desk. Mike drops his bag and sits down heavily. He hears skip open his mini fridge and a cold bottle gets pressed into his hand moments later.

“What's going on?” Al asks without preamble.

“I think this next season may be my last,” Mike replies. “Had a meeting with Oscar this morning.”

The statement draws a grunt of derision from Al. “And that led you to believe this is your last season?”

“It led me to believe that if I don't make it my last season, ownership will do their best to find a way to make sure I'm not a Padre anymore. Maybe it's my time to go, Al. But what am I supposed to do next?”

“Kid,” Al starts and it makes Mike begrudgingly smile. “You have a world of opportunity waiting for you. Yeah, your days in the game are numbered, but you say they like you won't be in the Hall of Fame, or have a dozen opportunities to open that big trap of yours and be a talking head on TV. Is it what you want? Probably not. I know you want that ring. And I hope to God that this year is our year, but if it's not? Then I don't know what to tell you other than this place will always be your home.”

Al clinks his beer bottle against Mike’s before he takes a long drag. “So who are you avoiding by being here? Still chasing after Rachel?”

Mike pulls a grimace and shakes his head. “No. And no one. I'm not avoiding anybody.”

“Whatever you say, Mike.”

\-----

He picks up his phone when he gets home an hour later and has a screen full of notifications, but only one of them is from Ginny.

_Ginny_   
**Give me a call if you want to go grab dinner, or tell me why you're avoiding me**

He sighs, unlocks his phone, and lets his finger hover over her name. He sets the phone back down and makes his way to the stairs.

He rushes through a shower, gets dressed, and heads back out of the house, taking his phone this time.

He parks in the driveway of Ginny’s house in record time and quickly makes his way to her door.

Rapping his knuckles hard on the pretty red door, he tries to catch his breath when it swings open. She's frowning as her eyes roam his face.

“I'm scared of what's happening, Ginny,” Mike blurts out. “I don't know if I can do this. I don't know if I have it in me.”

Ginny’s face goes slack and she nods. She leans into the door and gives him a forced smile. “Well, thanks for being honest with me, and doing it to my face. Most guys would just send a text or something.”

Mike’s brown pulls together. “What?”

“I mean, we've barely been dating, really, so it's—if you're going to breakup with someone, face to face is—”

“I'm not breaking up with you,” Mike replies in harsh tone. “Why would I do that?”

“I don't know, Mike, but you just showed up at my door after ignoring me all day to say you don't know if you can do this. What else am I supposed to think?”

Mike lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, I'm not—this isn't about us, though in a—can I come in?”

Ginny steps back and ushers Mike through the door. He belatedly realizes he's not been into her new home before. He waits for her to lead, then follows her into the small galley kitchen.

“You have a nice place, Baker.”

She levels a look at him as she hops up onto the counter beside a plate of grapes and cubed cheese. He leans against the marble counter beside her, arms crossed in front of him.

“I'm sorry I avoided you today,” he begins. “I had a meeting with Oscar. He wants to call up another catcher.”

Mike looks up at her and sees a look of concern flit across her face. “And I don't know what to do, Gin. This may be my last season as a Padre whether I want it or not, and then what? And we...this...I don't know what this is or what you want, but—”

“You could start by asking me,” Ginny interrupts. She pops a grape into her mouth and shrugs. “That's a concept. Or you could tell me what you want.”

“You have to know what I want.”

She scoffs. “The same way you know what I want? I'm not going to assume to know what's going on in your head, Mike, I thought you were breaking up with me while standing in my doorway.”

“I want more,” Mike says. “I want everything. I want to be with you, and I don't want it to be temporary, and I don't want to lie about it, and I don't want to cover it up. And I know that last part isn't realistic, and I'm going to hate every inch of pretending to not be with you, Ginny, but I'll do it. Because I just want to be with you.

“I made the mistake before of trying to ignore what I feel for you, and it made things too difficult between us. And I don't know how much you're willing to give or how much you want, but I'm here for the long haul. However you decide that'll be.”

“Are you afraid of retiring?” Ginny asks and Mike’s a little taken aback.

“Are you—”

“I'm not ignoring that far too long speech,” she says can putting up a hand. “I'm still processing because...I...just answer the question.”

“Yeah,” he sighs and lifts himself onto the counter beside her. “I don't know that I'm good at anything else. Or even what I could do.”

“Well, that's bullshit.”

“You're very sweet to me.”

“I'm serious, old man.” She elbows his arm lightly as she laughs. “I don't know that there's anything you can't do when you try. And you have an entire season to figure out what you want to do next, if you're really set on retiring. If you're not, maybe you start easing the reins and actually mentoring Livan as a catcher. I know—” she places a finger over his lips before he starts to speak. “He's not your favorite person, but he needs your help. And that's what you do. You're a leader for a reason Mike. He’ll follow. You're the best of the best.”

He smiles around her finger before he gently grasps her wrist and pulls it away from his mouth. “Sometimes I think you like me.”

“I do like you,” she replies in a serious tone. “I like you more than is probably wise, and I'm ready to break all my rules for you to prove it.

“I'm not good at this, Mike. I've—I've only ever had one real relationship and that ended in a disaster, and I don't—that's scary. What I feel for you, I've never felt for anyone, and it's nerve racking. I'm placing my very delicate heart in your hands. Because I want to, please don't break it.”

Mike swallows hard and leans forward to brush his lips against hers. “I promise I'll protect it. As long as you protect mine, too.”

She nods against his forehead and brushes her nose with his before she kisses him softly once more. “That means,” she breathes against his lips. “Not ignoring me. If you need time, say that, don't just blow me off. You're still my best friend in addition to any other title you may get. Even if you are a disaster of a human being.”

“There she is,” Mike says with a laugh. “You were being too nice, I was wondering where my snark queen had gone.”

“You're hilarious,” she replies as she hops off the counter. “I'm hungry, and you owe me dinner for making me worry. Sushi?”

She holds out her hand, palm up, and smiles. Mike laces his fingers through hers and hops off the counter.

“Sure thing, rook.”

_END PART EIGHT_


	9. Of Peonies

“We need to tell Skip.”

Mike looks up from the shirt he's folding over the rapidly filling suitcase on his bed. Ginny is sprawled beside the bag, head in her hands, watching unhelpfully and commenting on the number of plaid shirts he's packed thus far.

It's five days to spring training, and probably the biggest test of their relationship yet. They've mostly talked around the situation, not pinpointing precisely how they intend to play it with their teammates, the front office, or the public.

Mike shrugs and drops the shirt into his bag. He scoots the battered case over, and plops down beside her. “Okay,” he replies. “Any reason for this sudden decision?”

“Just in case, you know. In case...he catches us in a compromising position or something.”

“Are you planning on being in a compromising position with me, rookie?”

Ginny rolls her eyes. “You could only be so lucky, old man.”

“You’re the one who brought it up. I’m merely wondering what kind of compromising position you’ve got in mind.”

“We haven’t even had sex yet, and already you’re in danger of losing the privilege.”

Mike laughs and leans over to kiss her cheek. Every moment with Ginny, he's acutely aware they haven't had sex yet.

Mike wants to—desperately—he’d be lying if he said otherwise. But the rush to explore every inch of her body thoroughly and many times over, is tempered with wanting to make sure they're on the same page with their relationship.

“You talk a big game, rookie,” he teases her anyway. “I've caught you checking me out. I know you want me.”

Mike thinks she'll tease him back like she always does, so he's surprised, and thrown off course when she bites her bottom lip and nods.

“I do want you, old man.”

Mike sucks in a breath and narrows his eyes. “Gin…”

“I know, I know,” she holds up a hand in supplication. “Don't start something we can't finish at the moment. But, in case you were wondering, or perhaps confused, or unsure, I want you just as badly as you want me. Maybe more.”

Mike snorts. “No way you want me more.”

“Poster, old man.”

“Okay, the longevity of you being totally into the Mike Lawson Experience may outrank me, but I'm positive the intensity of my desire outmatches yours.”

“Okay, challenge accepted, Mike.” Ginny maneuvers herself into a seated position and smirks. “Tell me how intense your feelings are.”

He shifts his body with a groan, stretching out his legs so that she's placed between them. He pulls her closer to him and threads the fingers of his right hand through the hand resting in her lap while his left hand tangles in the wispy falls of hair that have escaped her bun.

“Every moment with you feels like getting swept away with the tide and feels like coming home at the same time. I've never been both set on fire and felt utterly grounded at the same time. When you kiss me, I can't help but want to do it for the rest of my days. So of course, my mind conjures up the feel of your body wrapped around mine. And every moment I want that, and every moment I think that it'll be the greatest experience of my life, but I'll also never want to be separated from you because then you'll have all of me. Mind, body, and soul.

“There isn't a part of you I don't want. And yes I'm physically attracted to you, how could I not be? But what I want is more than I can even put into words. I just want...you. All of you.”

Ginny's eyes grow wider and wider as his speech continues, and Mike has a brief moment of panic before she launches herself into his arms, knocking him onto his back. She straddles his waist and drops kisses across his lips and cheek and forehead.

“God,” she breathes out between a pass over his lips. “You and your speeches. Sometimes, you really get it right, Mike.”

He laughs into her kiss and circles his arms around her waist. She threads her fingers through his hair and sends her tongue out across his bottom lip.

“Gin,” she groans when her teeth nip at his lips and she circles her hips across his lap. “Ginny, if you—”

“Shhh, old man.” She pushes her body up just enough to hover and look down over him. “I know, we can't right now, we've both got things to do and I want to take my time exploring your body thoroughly, but you can't expect me not to want to make out with you after you said all that, you know?”

Mike laughs and pulls her down, rolls them over and proceeds to do as she bids.

\-----

Mike taps nervously on Al’s office door and hears a gruff ‘yeah’ in return.

“Hey Skip,” Mike says as he swings the door open. “Got a minute?”

“Mike!” Al exclaims. “You do know you have a rather expensive home in La Jolla, right? Why do you keep skulking around here? Had another front office meeting?”

“No, no,” Mike replies and draws his sweaty palms down the front of his jeans. “Nothing like that, actually came by to talk to you about something.”

Al points to the chair to the side of his desk and reaches for the fridge. “Beer?”

“No, thanks.” Mike clears his throats and twines his fingers together. “I...well...it's not like I really planned it or anything, how could I have known that...the thing is Al—”

“Please finish one sentence sometime soon,” Al prods with half a grin.

“Ginny and I are seeing each other. I mean, dating. A couple. Ginny and I are a couple,” Mike blurts out clumsily.

Al frowns and leans back in his chair. “This is a joke, right?”

Mike shakes his head even as the color drains from his face. He sees color crawling up Al’s neck, and his nostrils flare. Mike's reminded vaguely of a bull at the moment.

“Mike, please tell me this is some elaborate, early April Fool’s Day thing, because I got to tell you, if it's not, this is the height of stupidity. Maybe the dumbest thing you've ever done.”

“Al—”

“No,” Al interrupts. “This young woman doesn't deserve to get dragged into the mess that comes with dating her captain—a man 13 years older than she is. A man who, until recently, talked about still being in love with his ex-wife. A man who should know better than to want to drag her name through the mud for some quick thing, or end-of-career breakdown—”

“It's not like that at all,” Mike growls, but Al ignores him.

“You have no idea the stress Ginny is already under. The pressure. And now you want to add this bullshit to it, too? The media is going to have a field day, and you just handed it to them all nice and neatly gift wrapped.”

Mike clenches his fists. “I didn't just start this on a whim. I care about Ginny a lot.”

“Oh? Suddenly she’s what you really want? You're taking what you want and damning her with the consequences. What happens if Rachel comes back? Damn it, Mike. I did not sign up for some lonely-hearts club in my ball team. End this before you fuck things up for good or break her heart. Find someone else to make you feel young.”

“That's not—I love Ginny. I love her, this isn't temporary.”

Al scoffs and turns away from Mike. He props his elbows on his desk and drops his head into his upturned hands. “I really want to believe that, Mike. But I hear the stories. Your career is ending and hers is just starting. Seems awfully selfish to me to drag her down with you.”

\-----

“Mike!” Ginny’s voice rings out in his foyer. He pushes away from the kitchen counter and frowns. As he rounds the end of the counter, a smile breaks over his face involuntarily when he sees her come into view, a big brown bag in her hand and dimples on full display.

“I bought dim sum. And yes, before you ask, I got extra pork buns because I know they're your favorite and I'm tired of you trying to steal mine.”

Mike gives a weak smile and moves over to drop a kiss on her forehead. “Thanks for this.”

Ginny frowns as she unloads the bag. “What's wrong?”

He lets out a loud sigh and pulls up a stool to sit across the counter from her. “I went and saw Al today. He's...he's not thrilled with me at the moment.”

“You went and saw Al?”

“Yeah?” Mike half asks confused at the icy tone she's taken on. “You said I should go and see him.”

“I said we, Mike. We, as in you _and_ I. The two people on this relationship. Not just you alone. I'm starting to think we need to work on listening skills.”

“Cute, Ginny, but I've known Al longer, and he—”

“What does knowing him longer have to do with you and I being a couple and a team?” She pushes the bag aside in frustration and rounds the counter to stand in front of him. “Al obviously upset you, and I don't know what he said because I wasn't there, and I should've been. I don't need protecting from hearing what other people have to say. That's not your job. I'm not your responsibility; I'm your partner, and your best friend. And I wanted to be there for you and with you. I wanted to let Al know together.”

Mike exhales and drops his shoulders. He puts a big hand on her hip and pulls her into him, sliding his forehead against hers. “I'm sorry. You're right, and I'm sorry. I honestly didn't think you'd mind.”

Ginny rolls her eyes and takes a step back. “So what did Al say?”

Mike relates to her his talk with Al, and his questions about Mike’s sanity and selfishness. “He's probably right.”

“He isn't,” Ginny insists. “And I would've told him that much had I been there, too.”

Mike shakes his head. “I have a knack for destroying the best things in my life and I don't think you really understand what the press could do, Gin, and because of me? I have a feeling you're going to eventually realize that and grow to resent me, and I—”

“Listen, Mike,” Ginny interrupts. “I'm getting off the self-pity train, okay? If you want to act like this thing between us is doomed from the start, then you're right. What's the point? I'm terrified and so are you, but if we operate under that premise with everything we do, we’re going to be two nutcases by the end of the season. Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes,” Mike replies without hesitation. “You know I do, Gin—”

“Then that's where we start. And I'm not saying past failures won't crop up from time to time, but starting with the premise that you ruin things and therefore it's not worth the effort is a little too doomsday-y for a relationship that's just started. We knew this wouldn't be easy. But I want something that's mine. I'm tired of sacrificing everything for this game.

“As for Skip, well, we've got to show him that we’re two professional people who won't let this affect the team or the game.”

“So, we’re hiding this?” Mike asks.

Ginny shakes her head. “Not hiding necessarily, but certainly not flaunting it. We’ve just--we need to be careful is all.”

“And you’re sure all the subterfuge is worth it?”

“I swear to god, if you ask me that again--”

“I’m not trying to piss you off, Gin,” Mike interrupts harshly. “I just want you to think. Really think about this. You are going to be bigger than this game, hell rook, you already are. And I don’t want to see you bear the burden of this on top of everything else because we couldn’t wait until the end of the season.”

“Are you going to make me face it alone?” Ginny questions quietly.

“Of course not,” Mike says, a tone of finality in his voice. “I’ll stand right beside you for as long as you let me.”

She nods and closes the space between them. She places a gentle hand on one side of his face and kisses the opposite cheek. “Then that’s all I need, old man. You, beside me, battling things as they come along instead of borrowing from trouble that hasn’t happened yet. We, yes WE, will go back and speak to Skip again. He needs to hear from me anyway. And will you stop being such a worrywart. God, is this what happens when you date an old man?”

Mike scoffs. “Wouldn’t know, never dated one myself. And should I feel ashamed at this incredible amount of emotional maturity you display that I don’t?”

“Most definitely,” she chides and pats his cheek a little harder than necessary. “Luckily, I've gotten a lot of tips and speeches from Evelyn.” She leans down and kisses him chastely, just a brush of warm, dry lips against his own before she pulls back. She takes a deep breath and pulls gently at his beard. “You do know I love you, right?”

Mike’s breath halts in his chest. He swallows hard and shakes his head a little. “I mean...I hoped you did. Because I love you more than I can even put into words.”

She rolls her eyes and touches her forehead to his. “Always trying to one up me. Such a jerk.”

“Whatever, Baker. You just said you love me. I heard it. I'm afraid you're stuck with me now.”

“For how long?” she asks before she brushes her lips against his again.

“I'm afraid it's going to be a life sentence.”

_END PART NINE_


End file.
